As You Wish
by deGorgeous
Summary: The Princess Bride AU. Heroes. Giants. Villains. Miracle Men. True Love. A story of lost love and renewed hope.
1. Farm Boy

**A/N: First AU I've ever written. I was motivated to write this after reading some discussion and interviews about what inspired Colin O'Donoghue's take on Hook (which was partially inspired by the Dread Pirate Roberts). **

**Dedicated to Sarah (onceuponamirror)  
**

**I'm looking at this as a retelling of The Princess Bride as opposed to a completely faithful interpretation; it's more dramatic than comical. I figured it'd be a twist in the story, much in the same vein as how most of the other fairytales are adapted for the show. **

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Chapter One: Farm Boy

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The hot sun scorched Emma's skin as she walked along the grass, approaching her neighbor's farm. The shade from the barn provided relief from the summer heat. Emma collapsed against the faded wood and ran her fingers along the scratches embedded there, catching her breath from her long walk.

The Lucas' property had several marks hidden along the walls. As a child, Emma would make a game of finding them all. Whenever she thought she counted every single one, a new scratch emerged, deeper and larger than the ones before. At her mother's insistence, she never spoke of her findings.

Wiping the sweat from her neck, Emma walked around the barn, her hands roaming over the equipment and smaller tools that were left out.

One item stood out to her: a pair of sheep shears that were coated in black. Otherwise unremarkable, Emma was fascinated by the shape of the handles which, when closed together, took the form of a heart.

Emma was alone, the Lucus' likely having gone into town. _No one would know_, she thought, _and who would miss it?_

She motioned to tuck the shears under her shirt and she slowly made her way outside when she saw someone standing by the entrance.

"I don't think those're yours," the young man said, making Emma jump.

"No, I'm just—" she stuttered, "I'm borrowing them."

"Then why do you look so," he paused, walking nearer to her, a grin spread across his face, "suspicious?"

His smile was infectious and Emma relaxed slightly, but still clutched the shears tightly to her. He looked to be a teenager, just like her, maybe a few years older.

"Neal." He offered his hand out to her but Emma refused it.

"I'm not telling you my name."

"No, but not too many people live around here. I'm sure if I told someone what you looked like they'd figure out it was you." His voice was low, lazy even. Despite his threat, Neal never stopped smiling. His face was like a child's.

Her arms went to her sides, contemplating leaving the shears behind. In looking down, Emma saw the sack he was carrying, various tools sticking out at odd places. They were taken in a hurry.

"Is all that stuff _yours_?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, I—" the question caught him off guard. "I'm the new farm boy."

"I know you're lying," she said victoriously. "I can always tell when someone is lying."

"Right," he laughed, then they heard movement coming from the Lucas house. He froze and adjusted the sack over his shoulder.

Emma began to panic as well, looking to Neal for what to do. She'd stolen little things before but had never been so close to getting caught. He seemed to have more experience than she did; it seemed he had more to lose.

"Go," she said. "I'll distract them while you sneak out."

Neal was surprised by her plan—that she'd offer to help someone she just met—but didn't hesitate to make his escape. Before he left, he called out to her.

"I never got your name."

"Emma. Emma Swan."

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* * *

.

The fire crackled as Snow poked at the logs in the fireplace. Winter had been especially cold this year, and despite her namesake, the harsh weather depressed her greatly. It reminded Snow of how isolated her family had become from the rest of the kingdom.

They lived a simple life and perhaps she would be truly satisfied with that someday. But how could she be when the Evil Queen was still in power?

Snow went back to setting the table as Charming entered their modest dining room, a warm pot in his hands filled with soup that was ready to be served.

He placed the metal container in the center of the table, crowding it immediately. The piece of furniture could barely fit a family of four, but it had just been the three of them for 17 years.

"This looks amazing, David," she remarked, his loving nickname never to be spoken while they were in hiding.

As he raised the ladle to fill his wife's bowl, David could see the tension behind her smile, the wrinkles by her eyes like taut lines, looking particularly severe.

"Mary Margaret, what's wrong?"

She shook her head to dismiss the issue, but his words stung. _That is not my name_, she thought, knowing its use was only a precaution. Even in the privacy of their own home they were not safe or free. And all because of—

"It's Regina," she said finally, taking a seat. "She's done something truly terrible."

He placed the bowl in front of her and sat down, listening intently as she continued. "Ruby overheard some people talking in the market this morning." Snow's voice became hoarse and she reached out to hold her husband's hand. "Regina's men massacred an entire village—"

"Was it nearby?" He blurted, inching his chair closer to her. "Does she know where we are?"

"That's not the point, David." Snow wiped her eyes, anger building inside of her. "Don't you see what she's done to us? Innocent people are dying and we live in fear of being found."

David knew she was right. He felt a profound sadness at her news, but the safety of his family had always been his priority. And he was hardly surprised by the Evil Queen's actions.

"I don't recognize the people we've become," she whispered, David's thumb caressing her wrist. "We can't keep living like this."

"So what should we do?"

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* * *

.

Emma's hair danced in the strong wind, her sheepskin cloak doing little to keep her warm.

"Farm boy!" she called out, her voice high-pitched and nagging. Nearing a lonely hovel, Emma shouted again, louder. "Oh farm boy!"

Neal ran out to meet her in the field, hands rubbing up and down his arms to generate some heat. "What're you doing?"

"I've come to arrest you," she teased, leaning into him. Emma gave him a quick peck on the lips, keeping her face close to his. "So are you going to let me in?"

The inside of the shack, while usually cluttered with Neal's collection of stolen objects from past employers, was practically empty. Only a minuscule desk, chair, and bed occupied the space.

"I know I told you to clean this place up, but I didn't think you'd take it this far," she laughed, throwing her shawl and scarf onto the bed, as she often did.

"Anything to get you here more often," he said, looking away. He busied himself with clearing away a plate of food from the desk. "I think it worked, seeing you two nights in a row."

Emma tugged on his sleeve and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling against him as they kissed each other slowly. Her fingers combed through his thick, dark brown hair while his hands rested tentatively on her hips.

"I just really wanted to see you." She touched his nose with hers, smiling brightly at Neal. "And I know how hard you've been working."

"Stay the night with me," he said suddenly. Emma broke out into giggles, remembering the last time she has spent the night with him. She met his eyes and saw he was serious.

"You know I can't do that," she scoffed, playfully pushing him away.

"You didn't have a problem doing it a few weeks ago." Neal's tone was low and raspy, his words slurred. It drove Emma crazy, but the hour was late and she needed to return home.

"I can't," she stated firmly. "Maybe next time."

Emma spent nearly an hour with him, sensing his tension but never addressing it. She noticed the darkening sky through the cracks in the window shutters. She took her time collecting her things from his bed. When she looked back at him it was as though he wanted to tell her something, but he didn't say a word and only watched her make her way to the hovel's entrance.

"I love you," she said, halfway out the door.

Neal nodded and gave her a shy smile. "Love you, too."

A few moments after she left, Neal collapsed onto his bed, palms stretching his cheeks. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded, eroded piece of paper.

It was a drawing of a little boy with fluffed hair and over-sized clothes. It was a drawing of him.

It was just one of many Neal had spotted while in town. He had taken down as many as he saw but knew it had been pointless. When the Dark One wanted something—or someone—he stopped at nothing to get it.

Seeing Emma one last time had almost been enough to make him stay. He cared for her, more than any woman before her. But the fear of being found by his father was too strong. _I'm doing this to protect her_, he convinced himself.

He made peace with the fact that he'd never see Emma again. Neal had to leave.

He walked to the back entrance of the shack, stepping outside. Lined up against the outer wall were the missing contents of his home: several bags and crates full of items that didn't belong to him. Neal had to get rid of them somehow, and then he would go.

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* * *

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When she entered her house, Emma expected to find her parents sitting at the dinner table with their arms folded and unamused looks on their faces. She pictured it in her mind so perfectly, but when she arrived no one was there.

She said nothing, only undressed and searched for any signs of where they could be. If they weren't in the dining room—which also served as the kitchen and living room depending on the occasion and time of day—then they'd likely be upstairs.

Upon reaching the staircase, Emma could already hear the faint sound of a discussion in progress. Possibly an argument. She delicately placed her foot on each step, careful not to make a sound.

Emma lingered by her parents' bedroom, peaking through the barely opened door. She could see her mother's feet pressed against the floor, knees extended forward. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, she assumed, while her father would occasionally block her view as he paced back and forth.

"But how would we do it?" she heard him ask. "We don't have magic, or an army, or a kingdom anymore."

"We never needed those things," her mother insisted tiredly. Their conversation had been a lengthy one. "We didn't have any of that the first time we defeated her."

"We didn't have Emma either."

His comment had an impact on Snow, their voices becoming more muffled. David had stopped his pacing and had sat down beside her. Emma leaned in closer, the splinters on the door tickling her ear.

"This isn't how it should be," her mother said after awhile. "It should be us in that castle, helping our people. It should be us on that thrown."

"Mom?" Emma fully came into their room, her mouth open and eyes wide. Her parents stood up immediately, frozen in place.

"Emma, honey, how long were you—"

"You were talking about the queen," Emma interrupted, tucking her long blonde hair behind her earlobe. "You're talking about fighting the queen."

"Yes," David admitted, going to his daughter across the room. "We were talking about it, but we haven't decided on anything yet." He placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to meet her gaze.

"You've done it _before_?" He could see her piecing together the bits of information she had overheard, her expression becoming more severe. "Are we… am I…?"

Battling the queen. Fighting for their people. Their rightful place on the thrown. They couldn't be...

"You're not—"

Her mother nodded then bowed her head. "Yes," she muttered before reaching out to her daughter.

Emma held her breath as she stepped away from her parents. She was the daughter of the former king and queen, which made her a—

The idea made her happy for moment; she felt, if only for a second, that she was important and powerful. A real princess. But the feeling quickly faded and was replaced with a dizziness Emma couldn't explain. Suddenly she didn't know who she was; who her parents were.

Emma mumbled something before leaving the room entirely. She could hear them following her into the hallway but stopped when she slammed her bedroom door shut.

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* * *

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By the next morning, the nausea hadn't faded. The sleep was needed but when she woke up, all the worries of the previous night still remained.

Emma leaped out of bed and ran to the corner of the room. She bent over the empty pot that resided there and expelled the contents of her stomach. She blamed it on the stress caused by yesterday's confrontation.

_It's all in your head_, she repeated to herself. _Just breathe_.

Emma wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, rising slowly from the floor. She needed to vent, to rant, to yell—it was the best way she knew how to relieve her anxiety. She needed someone who would listen. She needed Neal.

Sneaking out was easy enough and she was grateful. The overcast sky signaled an oncoming storm. She could already feel the light rain sprinkling on her skin. Emma would wait it out in Neal's hovel. She could think of several things they could do to pass the time.

When she got there, she called out to him but there was no response. She knocked on the door jocosely, but still nothing.

Growing concerned, Emma peaked through the small window near the entrance. The shack seemed just as barren as it had the night before and no one could be seen; it was too dark for her to be sure.

Emma kicked the backdoor open—a maneuver Neal had taught her—and walked inside. There were no signs of life within. It was completely empty.

Had something happened to him? Emma saw no signs of a struggle or forced entry. He wouldn't leave without telling her. Surely he wouldn't abandon her.

The longer she stood in his home, the more the idea of Neal's permanent departure became a strong possibility. Emma remained in a state of denial as she left, determined to search the village for any sign of him.

As she neared her house, however, she saw her parents standing at outside with an older gentlemen. From afar Emma noticed the man's exasperated arm movements and when she got closer she could hear his elevated tone.

"...Then how do you explain my tools in your shed?" The man practically screamed at David who was trying to calm him down.

"Why don't we ask Emma," Snow suggested gently, watching her daughter walking to them. "Honey, did you take this man's things?"

Emma was confused, having never encountered the man before. She remembered the people she had stolen from and he wasn't one of them. Her parents noted her expression but failed to stop the gentleman from addressing her.

"You and that boy! I've seen you two. Don't think I don't know what you two've been up to!"

His finger stiffly pointed at her face, Emma held her hands up defensively. He huffed before leading the way into their shed. He gestured aggressively to the sacks that lined the wall, tucked away in the shadows. "These are _mine_," he said, hand extended to one specific bag, "and you had no right—"

"Sir, I didn't—"

"They don't belong to you!" he added, her interruption fueling his rage. "Or didn't your parents teach you any better?"

David stepped in front of the man, clearly insulted. "That's enough," he gritted out. He looked to Emma, seeing the shame in her eyes as her shoulders sagged.

She had only ever taken a few trinkets and they were hidden away in the crevices of her room. The crates and bags she had been shown belonged to Neal. She remembered them distinctly. She even recalled using one as a chair while they ate.

"I think there's been some mistake," Snow interjected. "Please, sir, take your things. We apologize for—"

"And you tell that boy that I'm on to him," the man said to Emma, ignoring her mother. He took his belongings and stomped away.

"Emma, maybe we should have a talk with this boy," she said, bordering on admonishment. "Where is he?"

The full realization of what Neal had done hit Emma then. He had been planning to leave town and left his baggage with her, in her family's home. "He's gone," she breathed. "He's not coming back."

They let her tread past them in silence. Emma made her way upstairs in a haze, sorrow gripping her heart. There was no outburst, no tears; not yet.

She sat on her bed in her room, the pale light beaming in and giving the space a ghostly feel. She grabbed an object from her nightstand—or the block of wood that served as such—and placed it in her lap. It was a pair of sheep shears coated in black.

"I will never love again."

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	2. The Engagement

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Chapter Two: The Engagement

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(Ten Years Later)

Steps echoed through the blackish hallway of the Evil Queen's castle, her heels hurriedly pounding against the marble. The leather sleeves of her gown scrunched with the stiff movement of her arms, her hands clenched tightly into fists. The heavy wood of the towering double doors to her quarters were no obstacle for Regina as she pushed them open with her dark magic.

Wordlessly, she instructed the servants within to vacate. They did so quickly, gathering their brooms and rags before scurrying away. At the sound of the doors slamming shut, Regina let out a fierce roar, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

"Mother!"

A hidden door near the queen's vanity creaked open, an older woman stepping casually through it. Cora gently shut it, a clicking sound ensuring it was closed securely. It was moments like these that proved her decision to have her daughter's room connected to her own was a good one.

"What is it, dear?" Cora asked calmly, folding her hands in front of her.

"I don't understand them," Regina huffed, removing her purple headpiece and throwing itÍ across the room. "After everything I've done for them—these _peasants_ and _beggars_," she spat, "they still long for their precious _Snow White_."

"She _is_ the lost princess," Cora reminded. "The people are always going to have a soft spot for her. That is their weakness." She walked closer to Regina and tucked a greying patch of hair behind her daughter's ear, correcting her disheveled appearance. "Don't let it trouble you."

"But they should love _me_," she moaned, tolerating her mother's touch. "Why are they loyal to her and not to me? I am their queen!"

"Perhaps you shouldn't have abandoned your search for her," Cora said, the subtlety of her critical tone not lost on Regina.

"Hunting her only made the brat more popular." Her breathing slowed, her wrath dying down as her thoughts collected.

"Why is this bothering you so much? The people respect you; they fear you. It's what you wanted."

"It's what _you_ wanted, mother." Regina swatted Cora's hand away from her face and stalked towards the balcony, the banister cool against her skin.

She looked over the main courtyard, a sprinkle of people going about their business. They appeared as insects to her, trapped by the menacingly thick stone that bordered the quad. She wanted the affection of these people, craved it even. While decades of power had satisfied Regina, she could not ignore the intense loneliness she felt most days. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

_And I can have it._

Her reputation in the kingdom, while having served her well in her youth, now caused more problems than it solved. Fear only went so far, although her mother would disagree. Rumors of a possible uprising elicited a panic within her.

The urge to harm Snow White had never wavered but the desire to kill her had faded with time. Her death would only solidify her saintliness, Regina knew. A plan formed in her mind.

"You're wrong, mother," Regina said finally, reentering her room. Cora's pursed lips and flared nostrils urged the queen to finish. "I didn't abandon my search for Snow. I only stopped because I had found her."

"You what?" Cora took offense to the information, hurt by Regina's secrecy on such an important matter. "All this time, we could have—"

"But now," Regina interjected, "it's time to pay the princess a little visit."

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* * *

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**

Seated by the vacant fireplace in their modest home, Emma quietly busied herself with the folding of the laundry, her mother preoccupied in the kitchen. The chirping of the birds coupled with the gentle breeze that cooled her skin made Emma feel as though she was in a trance. Not overjoyed or overcome with emotion, but content. She was satisfied with that.

She had been staring blankly at the dining table, pushed to the side of the room until it was needed. Emma thought how appropriate it was that now all sides of the table had a person to occupy it, her son completing their family unit many years ago.

Emma could hear the tell-tale sounds of Henry speeding through the front yard but was still startled when he came crashing through the front door. She wondered how a boy could have so much energy, and cringed when thinking she might have been the same way as a child.

"Whoa, kid," she chided, putting the items of clothing aside to attend to her little tornado. "What have I told you about running in here?"

Henry grinned as he mouthed his apology; his smile reminded her of his father so much that often Emma had to look away.

Her attempts to discipline him, while admirable, never quite took. Her mother and father were usually the ones to effectively scold Henry, Emma taking a lighter approach to her parenting. She would often forget that she too was just a child when she had him.

"Where's your grandpa?" Emma deadpanned. The question ignited a spark in Henry's eyes.

"I smoked him! I think I set a new record," he exclaimed. She only shook her head in response.

She found David's inability to refuse his grandson's request for any sort of competition endearing. Their races from one place to another were commonplace, David's stamina wearing down as the years went by. One day, Emma thought wistfully, he wouldn't be able to do any of that.

A few minutes later, David arrived at the house. Out of breath, he leaned forward against the doorpost, his usual exaggerated tiredness replaced with something sobering.

"Snow!" he called out, the use of his wife's real name emphasizing the severity of the situation.

Within seconds, she emerged from the kitchen, worry carved into her features. David faced Emma and Henry, his breath returning to him. "The queen and her men are coming."

With a trained precision Emma had never seen, Snow moved to the base of the staircase and loosened a seemingly random floorboard from his place. Her mother's expression, marred with anxiety only moments before, took on a clearheaded determination.

From the hollowed section, Snow lifted a medium-sized satchel. Large enough to contain certain essentials, Emma discerned, but small enough to allow for quick transportation.

It hit her that her parents had been planning for such an event probably since the day she was born and recognized the same daily fear that her own son could be in danger. She marveled at their composure as she watched them make use of their extensive preparation.

"Emma, I need you to take Henry and go to the Lucas' barn," said Snow, placing a smaller bag in her daughter's hands. "There's an underpass that'll take you deep within the woods. Go, now."

David and Snow headed to the exit by the kitchen, praying they could get away undetected. But upon stepping outside, four soldiers circled them, Regina not far behind.

Their struggling only ceased when two more soldiers came from behind the house, escorting Emma and Henry to the front of the property.

Snow was surprised to see Regina on horseback, the sight bringing back bittersweet memories of the woman she used to know.

The queen's skills had rusted with age, her pace much slower than in her youth. She had wanted to make her visit as swift as possible, something a carriage wouldn't allow. Regina predicted she would feel the pain of this decision in the morning.

"Leaving so soon?" the queen taunted. "You didn't really think you could outrun me, did you?"

"You found us," David growled as he tried to wrestle his arms from the soldiers holding him back. "Took you long enough."

"Such hostility. Is this any way to treat a guest?"

"Regina," Snow said, her voice low but steady. "Don't drag this out. Please, just make it quick."

The queen rolled her eyes, waving at her men to release their hold on them. "I mean you no harm. I just want to… talk."

"Why should we believe you?" asked David. He wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulder while still maintaining eye contact with the wicked ruler.

"Because I've known your whereabouts for months now."

The queen reveled in the couple's reaction; they were dumbfounded. Suspicious of her intent, David and Snow accepted her statement and relaxed slightly.

Emma could only look on as things were happening before her that she could not fully grasp. She held on tightly to Henry, leaning into her father's embrace.

"Your death no longer suits me," Regina admitted with a flare in her tone, shifting her gaze from the former prince to the lost princess. "I'm here to propose a truce."

"You can forget it—" Snow placed her hand on Charming's bicep, cutting him off.

"What are the terms," she said, stepping forward. "Assuming I believe you mean me and my family no harm?"

"That you come to live with me, in _my_ castle." The queen proposed, underscoring her ownership of her step-daughter's former residence. "That is, if your daughter agrees to marry a member of my court."

Emma's eyes widened for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough for Regina to take note of her dismay.

"Who?" The queen ignored the question, adjusting her riding gloves in the process. "Regina," Snow asked again, forcefully this time, "I need to know who."

She took a moment to respond; she hadn't thought that far ahead. Regina had always been hot-headed in nature. "Sidney," she said finally, her pitch high at arriving at the name. "Yes, she'll marry Sidney. He's a nice enough man."

Sensing Snow was not satisfied with the reply, Regina called one of her soldiers to her side. He produced an elegantly framed hand mirror. The queen activated it, then turned the face around to reveal a pale green fog that formed the image of a man's head.

"Is that him?"

"Meet Sidney Glass."

"You want my daughter to marry an enchanted mirror?" David yelled from behind his wife, his rage building.

"Of course not, though I doubt she has better prospects. Sidney is a man in every sense of the word." Regina paused before giving the mirror back. "Well, perhaps not _every_ sense."

Her willingness to laugh at their current circumstance made Emma's blood boil. "This is all some sick joke to you."

"Ah, she speaks." Regina's interest in the girl grew. She ordered her men to bring Emma closer to her. "Do you have something you'd like to say?"

Emma snarled at Regina's mocking voice. She had never seen the queen in person; only a few paintings and tales of her insurmountable beauty. But up close, Emma could see the decay within, mixed with a sadness that perplexed her. She would have felt a strange sympathy for the woman in front of her if she wasn't so enraged.

Regina looked upon her, unable to read the girl. Her body language betrayed her nervousness, but Emma's insistence at maintaining a frigid facade intrigued her. Still, Emma said nothing.

"No, I didn't think so."

The queen pulled on her reigns, her steed moving further away from the group. With a flick of her wrist, sparks shot up in the air. The signal brought forth a dozen more soldiers who had been stationed just beyond the hill, hidden from sight.

"You have until tomorrow to make your decision. These men"—she motioned to the soldiers surrounding Snow White and her family members—"will stay behind to make sure you don't do anything foolish. I know you can't help yourself."

As quickly as she arrived, the evil queen was gone, the guards dressed in their grotesque armor the only evidence of her visit. Without a word, they went indoors to contemplate Regina's offer.

.

* * *

.**  
**

Hours had passed since the queen's departure. The four of them were huddled in Henry's room, the only part of the house with thick enough walls to keep any sound from escaping.

The guards outside were diligent, never standing in the same spot and camouflaged by the darkness. Their loyalty was impressive and Emma had expressed as much to her mother. "It's not loyalty," Snow had corrected. "It's fear."

They discussed plans of escape mostly; how to out-maneuver the soldiers posted outside. Snow and David were the most vocal, Emma chirping in every now and again to either support a potential plan or point out why it wouldn't work. Her mind was on something else: she hated the idea of being married off and frankly didn't trust the queen enough to even consider it.

As if Snow read her mind, her face became suddenly still.

"Maybe we should take it."

"Not gonna happen," Emma scoffed, her mother's words not taken seriously.

"Just… think about it." Snow sat by Emma on the bed, her hand gingerly placed on her daughter's thigh. "This could be the opportunity we've been waiting for."

David soon followed his wife's line of thinking, his face softening as well. "It is what we talked about, before Henry was born." At the sound of his name, Henry perked up.

"What?" he asked, his voice loud and squeaky. Emma brought a finger to her lips, tenderly quieting her son. "What did you guys talk about?"

"Taking down the queen," Emma answered, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone. After all the stories her parents told her about Regina; after all the things she'd read about her, they weren't actually thinking about taking her deal?

Emma soon realized that, yes, they were.

"This could be our way of taking power away from Regina," Snow continued. "We can defeat her."

"And all I have to do is marry someone I've never met," Emma replied, rubbing Henry's back to calm both him and her.

"She won't let it get that far," David added. "Regina doesn't want to go through with this any more than we do. We'll have to beat her at her own game. We'll find a way."

They sounded sure of their flowering plan but Emma still doubted them. She knew they would never purposely endanger her life. Their voices were gentle, but their statements made her feel as though she was in a war room.

Snow, sensing her tension, squeezed Emma's leg. "You can do it, honey. Don't worry."

"What if I don't want to?" she mumbled, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, no longer in control of her fate. "I—I'm not… she's way too powerful for this to work." Emma laughed it off, shifting on the mattress.

"That's what she wants, to get in your head," said David. "She can't hurt us. She won't hurt us, not now. She needs us alive."

"Yeah, until she doesn't."

Her comment brought silence to the room. The idea, as Emma understood it, was to be ten steps ahead of the queen; to use her as much as she was using them. It was a much bolder approach than just running away; Emma had always been in favor of taking action rather than sitting idly by. But she was still unconvinced.

"I am _not_ marrying anyone," Emma huffed.

"We won't let it get that far—"

Emma was getting restless. Why were they so insistent about this? "Come on, there has to be another option. Why is it so important to you that I do this?"

"Because we—everyone—needs you," Snow stated, more firmly than she would have liked. "I wish it didn't have to be this way, but right now, honey, this is our best chance."

"This is beyond ridiculous," Emma said as she jumped off the bed and walked back and forth from the window to the door. "I don't want any of this." She felt herself on the verge of tears, thankful her voice didn't crack.

"You're our only hope." Snow reached out to Emma, David joining them in the middle of the room. "You could be the kingdom's savior, Emma."

_Then the kingdom's screwed_, she thought. She looked at Henry, wide-eyed and always curious. She needed to be strong for him. She needed to calm down.

The longer she looked at her son, the stronger she felt. The stress of their conversation seemed to melt away as Henry's expression changed from one of confusion to one of hope. He knew she could do this. Even if he didn't quite understand the gravity of what Emma was about to agree to, she felt, if only for a second, that perhaps she could do everything her parents thought her capable of.

"I didn't ask for any of this," Emma said finally, weakly.

"We know," David said, kissing the top of her head.

It was decided then.

Come morning, Emma would be engaged to be married.

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* * *

.**  
**

A light rain pelted against the deck of a large ship, it's white sails flapping in the breeze. A man dressed all in black materialized from his cabin, his heavy leather coat swaying in the wind.

The captain was pleased to see his men at work, scattered about the bow of the ship. As he walked along, his steps firm upon the rocking wood, he could hear them buzzing away in between tasks. He picked up on common phrases: a lost princess' return, a royal wedding, the beauty of the bride-to-be.

One cluster of men in particular seemed thoroughly engrossed in the latest gossip, exchanging opinions as they scraped their spoons against their cracked bowls to get to the last bits of gruel. Through his eavesdropping, the captain learned all he needed to know.

_It's time_, he thought, _for my life's purpose to be met_.

His voice boomed with a sudden command, his men standing at attention as their leader spoke. "Harden up and prepare to change course, mates!"

The man in black instructed them to head south, to the edge of the Enchanted Forest, where the queen's kingdom resided. A broad smile on his face, the captain fastened a metallic hook to tip of his handless left arm, the contraption falling smoothly into place.

_We've bumpy seas ahead. _

_._

_._


	3. The Man In Black

.

Chapter Three: The Man In Black

.

In the surrounding forest of the Evil Queen's castle, Emma wandered the grounds as the sun began to rise, grateful for the solitude. It had been several weeks since her engagement was announced and Emma could never have predicted her immense popularity within the kingdom. Everyone knew her legacy; everyone expected great things.

When her new life became too overwhelming, Emma found comfort in being alone. She had made a routine of her wanderings in the woods, always having felt at home in nature.

She would usually take such walks with Henry, enjoying the companionship she had with him. It would make her feel like nothing had changed; like she was back on her family's farm, on her way to feed the chickens or tend to the crops.

But today, Emma chose an earlier hour, too early for her son's liking.

As she looked over the wild trees, she could see the castle's tower in the distance, becoming smaller and smaller the further she walked. The queen's household—which was actually her parents' rightful home, she reminded herself—was luxurious and spacious. Certainly larger than any house she had ever seen. It's atmosphere, however, put Emma on edge with its angular furniture and steely structure.

She could see the pain in her mother and father's eyes when they had arrived, to see their former household so transformed, so corrupted. Henry was the most receptive to their new residence. He viewed their situation as an adventure; Emma often hoped his outlook would rub off on her. She was on a mission; there was no room for merriment.

What Emma hadn't expected was the amount of affection Regina displayed towards Henry.

The queen was virtually unrecognizable in the presence of her son. Her face appeared years younger, her demeanor more relaxed.

At the insistence of her majesty, Henry spent a lot of time with Regina. While there was no real option to refuse her condition, Henry did seem moderately happy around her as well. He saw something in her that the rest of the family could not. Or perhaps, Emma concluded, Regina displayed a kindness that was only reserved for Henry.

Their growing relationship ignited Emma's paranoia about their so-called truce. The queen was the kind of woman who took what she wanted. Emma feared that, one day, Regina would want Henry for herself.

Her wedding was days away and despite their promise, her parents had yet to come up with a plan to defeat the Evil Queen. The longer she walked, the closer Emma came to accepting that she would in fact become Sidney Glass' wife.

_It's what a savior does,_ Emma thought. _Make sacrifices_.

It was her destiny, and she sure as hell wasn't going to complain about it.

Emma was so lost in her mind that she didn't notice the pair of figures that appeared in front of her. When she looked up, she saw a man dressed in peasant's clothing, and a warrior covered head to toe in a foreign armor.

"Can I help you?" she asked defensively, her back stiffening.

"A word, my lady?" said the man. He removed his moth-eaten cap, revealing a bald, shiny head. "We are but poor, lost circus performers." His lilt was thick, his amber mustache brushing along his teeth. "Is there a village nearby?"

"There's nothing nearby," Emma answered curtly. "Not for miles."

The man smirked, gesturing for the warrior to step forward. "Then there will be no one to hear you scream."

Before Emma could react, the hilt of the armored figure's sword slammed against her head, knocking her unconscious.

.

* * *

.**  
**

Emma's vision gradually returned to her, her sight still blurred and her head pounding. Her groans of discomfort made her abductors aware she was awake, the soldier coming to kneel in front of her.

Her eyes now able to focus, Emma took in her environment. They were on a sailboat only broad enough to carry a handful of people. _Not a full-fledged ship_, she thought. _They're not taking me far_.

A fog engulfed them, ensuring they were hidden from sight. The horizon could not be seen; Emma had no way of discerning their location.

The chain mail on the warrior's coned helmet clanked with the tilting of the boat. Emma flinched at the kidnapper's close proximity, memorizing the detail of the armor. The suit's respective plates were adorned with red patterns and fitted with golden rings. It was unlike anything Emma had seen before; surely she wouldn't forget.

The soldier spoke, but the words were muffled by the metallic headgear. Emma shook her head to indicate her lack of understanding.

In one swift motion, the helmet was lifted. Long, dark hair cascaded down as Emma was met with almond-shaped brown eyes. "You're a girl?"

"Woman," she corrected sorely.

"Hey you!" the peasant man called out irritably. "No talking to the captive!" Emma observed that he now sported an embroidered coat over his rags. The man seemed taller, bulkier that Emma remembered.

The woman stood upon hearing her partner's comments, clearly agitated by him. Emma watched as she marched across the boat, rocking it with each hardened step.

"My _name_ is Mulan," she hissed. "You'll address me as such so long as we're working together, _Claude_." Her low opinion of the man was made obvious by her inflection. Emma couldn't figure out why these two teamed up in the first place.

The sky was a darker grey now, but a feathered glow behind the clouds told Emma it was still morning. She wondered how long she had been out. Emma imagined how much time needed to pass before people noticed she was missing, and when she would be rescued.

"Screw it," she muttered under her breath. She wasn't going to wait for someone to save her.

Emma hurriedly dived into the water, a loud splash giving her away. She could hear her captors arguing as she came up for air, her arms and legs paddling hastily against the waves. The current was stronger than she estimated but Emma was determined to swim to safety.

She struggled to move her limbs in her long dress, its skirt and sleeves covering her completely. Emma paused for a moment to collect herself, looking back to see the sailboat edging closer.

She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to improve her vision and thought she saw a second, remote ship of a greater size, but the thickening smog made her doubt.

To her right, Emma spotted something moving beneath the water. The sea was murky; all she could make out was a long tentacle sliding past her. Moments later, a hollowed shriek could be heard from below.

"Do you know what that sound is, highness?" Claude mocked. "I'd hate for you to find out!"

Emma treaded the water, turning her back on the man and woman. She floated in the same spot for a few moments, unsure of which direction to take. It was long enough for Mulan to throw a rope out, ensnaring Emma.

She was pulled back to the boat, kicking and screaming all the while. Emma was roughly thrown back on board, the rope still tightly fastened around her waist.

Without a word, Mulan bent down before her, a second length of rope in hand. She tied Emma's wrists together, fussing as Emma jerked her arms around.

"Hold… still," Mulan ordered, exhaling sharply when the job was done.

Emma rested her back against the mast, the red fabric of her gown sticking to her legs and making a gusting noise with every move she made. "You're not gonna get away with this," Emma said through jittering teeth. "If you kill me, you'll have to answer to the queen."

Mulan watched her for a second, her expression indecipherable. "I'm sure we will."

"You think you're brave, don't you?" said Claude, peaking over Mulan's shoulder.

"Only compared to some."

Claude squirmed past Mulan, a white cloth in his fist. He tied it around Emma's head, tangling her hair as he secured the blindfold.

The pair walked back to the stern of the sailboat. Mulan was transfixed by the silhouette of a ship not far from them. The mist obstructed her view, but Mulan could make out its proportion and shape. A much larger ship than theirs; much faster, too.

"We're being followed," Mulan whispered.

Claude regarded the mystical ship briefly, is attentions focused on Emma. "Inconceivable," he declared. "It's probably just some local fishermen. No concern of ours."

"It's using the same wind we are," Mulan commented, ignoring Claude's words. "It's getting closer. We need to move."

.

* * *

.**  
**

They touched land as soon as they were able, deviating from their original course.

Emma was haphazardly guided along the woodland path, fearful of each step on the uneven terrain. Claude pulled at the rope around her hands as if she was an untamed horse. She fantasized about the multitude of ways she would cause him pain when all this was over.

Her blindfold slid down somewhat when she tripped over a small rock. It was enough for her to make general observations. Mulan lead the party, her accelerated pace proving hard to maintain. She was afraid of something, that much Emma could surmise.

While Claude had failed to take her concerns seriously, Mulan was wise enough to listen to her instinct. The ship that had been trailing them docked shortly after they did; they were being pursued. The priority was to remain unnoticed.

Stepping over the moss-covered branch of a fallen tree, Mulan could see a clearing ahead of them. She stopped, waiting for Claude to catch up. "There," she said, pointing in front of them.

There was an abounding field of yellowing grass, the sun shining down directly upon it. In the center was a giant beanstalk, it's vines extending far into the clouds.

"We'll climb it to evade the men who're trailing us," Mulan murmured into Claude's ear.

"You can't be serious," Claude complained. "This wasn't part of the arrangement." His voice was faint but aggravated. Despite their efforts, Emma could hear their discussion. "These... men you speak of? What makes you think they won't follow us up there?"

"Pirates are cowards by nature," Mulan explained with certainty. "And I am gravely serious." She stared him down, her breathing steady but audible. She reminded Emma of a bull preparing to charge.

As they moved forward, Emma thought of her captors' motivations for taking her. Claude seemed a simple man. A large sum of money would be enough to gain his loyalty. The warrior woman was harder to comprehend. She took her mission far too seriously to be driven by something superficial.

When they reached the base of the monstrous plant, Mulan fully removed the rag from Emma's face, handing it back to her teammate. "We're going to scale the beanstalk," she stated, as though Emma hadn't overheard their plan. "We'll need your _full_ cooperation."

"You don't have to do this, you know." Emma's jaw clenched as she made eye contact with Mulan. She was not going to be dissuaded.

Mulan forcefully removed the ropes from Emma's wrists, apparently insulted by her remark. "Do not pretend to know me, _princess_." She tied a knot around the rope at Emma's midsection, cinching the cord to herself. She extended another line for Claude to grab. _They're connecting me to them_, Emma heeded.

"Is this so I don't fall?" she asked bitingly.

"It's so you don't escape," replied Mulan. "Now let's go."

Emma gripped the vines of the beanstalk solidly, its texture making it difficult to carry out a steady ascent. But Emma made the climb without a word.

The higher they got the stronger the winds became, Mulan's cape flapping about. Occasionally it was strong enough to sway them, causing them to pause or readjust. With her cumbersome armor, Mulan had trouble repositioning herself, the strain evident on her face.

The temptation to look down was often too much; she needed to be aware of her surroundings at all times. Halfway through their climb, Mulan spotted a dark spot below them. Emma followed her gaze, seeing a man dressed all in black approaching.

"He's gaining on us," Mulan said, more to herself than to her companions. It was just a single individual, and not a band of criminals as she had suspected. Still, she didn't underestimate the threat.

"We need to move faster!" Claude exclaimed, a few feet behind Mulan and Emma's current position. They rolled their eyes as they pressed on.

A stone ledge awaited them as they neared the top. There was a small gap between the beanstalk and the ridge, requiring a minor jump. Mulan deftly landed, the rattling of her suit echoing beyond. Emma was helped onto the ledge; she was shortly followed by Claude. He placed is hands on his knees, breathing in and out with much exertion.

Mulan peered down the beanstalk, calculating that the man would reach them in a matter of minutes. Claude joined her, extending his neck out to catch a glimpse. "He's still at it? Inconceivable!"

"You keep using that word, and I don't think you know what it means," she seethed. "Whoever he is, he's obviously seen us with the princess."

"Then take care of him." Claude untied himself and used the rope to bind Emma's hands again, the blindfold returning as well. She struggled against him, fuming as the white cloth pulled at her hair. "We'll head straight into the giant's lair."

"Avoid the giant at all costs," she ordered. "She's only good to us alive." Emma was put off by the way her life was talked about, it's value only considered when affixed to a business dealing. Nevertheless, she felt some relief at knowing their task did not include her death.

Claude and Emma scurried off into the rubble of the cave, leaving Mulan to dispatch of their pursuer.

She stepped back from the edge, unsheathing her sword as she heard the man gripping the stone of the well-like platform. His hand dug into the ledge, then a metal hook joined it. Moments later his head emerged, then his torso and legs.

The man was covered almost entirely in leather, the sleeves of his onyx shirt billowing in the tame breeze. The stiff collar of his vest partially wrapped around his neck, a silver chain dangling over his exposed chest. The man was armed with a sword and the distinct weapon attached to his left arm.

He lurched closer to Mulan, eyeing her up and down, evaluating his opponent. He grinned humorlessly as she completed her assailing stance, sword pointed in his direction.

"Take one more step and it will be your last," she warned.

"Not keen on conversation I take it." The Man in Black halted, rubbing the coal-colored stubble on his chin. "I'll have to ask you to get out of my way."

His expression became more severe, but Mulan's posture was unyielding. He did not take kindly to the woman who was preventing his passage.

"If this is how you want to play," he said, his accent hushed and low. He took his time in grabbing his sword, the blade slackened as it practically skidded along the ground. "Then so be it."

He moved to the side, circling around Mulan as she turned along with him. While she watched him unwaveringly, the man's eyes were fixed on the floor, on his feet, on his hook.

Without warning, he lunged forward, his steel striking hers. She jumped back, angling her weapon diagonally and close to her face. The man was light on his feet, following her every action.

"The top of a beanstalk is a long way from the sea," she said. "I suggest you go back where you came from."

"Oh, but I'm precisely where I need to be, lass," he retorted.

Mulan struck down her sword, aiming for the man's ribcage, just barely missing it as he dodged her attack. She was impressed by his speed.

"Very eager to be rid of me I see," he chuckled, swinging his blade until it clanked against her own, their faces inches apart. "But I've no intention of leaving without the princess."

"What do you want with her, pirate?"

"My reasons are my own," he said. "And I prefer the term _Captain_." With a solid push, Mulan distanced herself from him, the metal sliding sharply away. "I think the better question is, what do _you _want with her?"

Mulan brushed off the question. She was tired of talking. Nearing each other, the two stood unflinchingly as they exchanged feints and parries with lightning speed. The pirate had no trouble matching the trained soldier as they danced around the wide space.

As their duel progressed, they made their way up some crumbling steps, the Man in Black motioning backwards to fend off Mulan's assaults. Dust was kicked into the air as their swords sang. Mulan switched to her left hand as the Captain twirled around to deflect her.

He saw as she moved to take something from her belt, his hook yanking her arm up and away. "Ah ah ah," he taunted. "You're not as clever as you think, love."

"Clever enough to defeat you," she said, her blade flashing as it made a direct hit along the man's abdomen, drawing blood.

He winced in pain but smiled devilishly as he trapped her weapon with his hook. Sweat dripping from her brow, Mulan tried to tug herself free. The Captain jolted his arm, effectively throwing Mulan off balance. A loud thud rang out as her body crashed to the ground.

The Man in Black held the tip of his sword close to her nose, her hair blown out of place by her gasping breaths. Her gaze burned through him as she leaned on her elbows.

"Do it," she spoke. "Finish it."

"Nothing would be easier," he said, taking a minor step back, his steel still aimed at her. "But I think I'll pass."

"You've killed many men before, I'm sure. You think just because I'm a wom—"

"I'm a man with a code," he interrupted. "You fought well, though not well enough I'm afraid." He inspected her, taking a moment to let his eyes scan the length of her.

She was no bandit, certainly not a lowly henchman. Her sanctimonious attitude told him she too lived by a set of rules. So what was compelling her to break them?

"What do you want with her?" the man repeated his earlier question.

"Why does it matter?"

"Consider my curiosity piqued." His tone was playful, but the unspoken threat saturated the air: talk, or I'll end your life.

"I'm only doing as I was commanded to," she stated simply, her shoulders slouching. She looked away as though she was ashamed. He kept his sword elevated, his silence advising her to keep going. "My friends are being held captive. This was the only way to save them."

"Why waste your skills on kidnapping when you could just battle your way through your predicament?"

"Because she has one of their hearts."

The admission affected the Captain greatly, she noticed. He put down his weapon and sat on a nearby piece of collapsed castle. His eyes wandered down but Mulan stayed static, knowing he could still strike her from his resting point.

"I don't know how to counteract that witch's magic. I was promised the heart would be returned so long as I delivered the princess to her."

"Who?" he inquired sternly. "Who has your friend's heart?"

"Cora," Mulan answered, the name tasting like poison in her mouth. "The Evil Queen's mother."

"I see," the Captain said. "The Evil Queen ordered the princess' capture I presume?"

Mulan nodded, shifting her leg in discomfort. The pirate processed the information, finding it to be in his favor.

"Is that why you chased us? To rescue her?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "I mean her no harm, but don't mistake me; my intentions are not honorable."

His response confused Mulan, but his distracted mind allowed for her to get on her feet. Her eyes searched for her discarded sword. Her actions were not ignored by the Man in Black.

"Looking for this?" He kicked up her weapon with his foot, expertly catching it with his only hand. He presented it to her, the handle facing towards her. "Go on, take it."

Mulan eyed him skeptically. "Why are you letting me go?"

"I bristle at the thought of a woman losing her heart. Unless it's over me." He sheathed his sword and picked at the end of his hook, waiting for Mulan to head down the beanstalk.

Mulan bowed her head in grudging appreciation before marching toward the end of the stone ledge, looking back at the pirate. "Who are you?"

"No one of consequence," he replied coldly, walking off.

"Wait," she called out. Approaching him, Mulan reached for an item on her belt and offered it to the Captain. "This is powder, made from poppies."

He received the gift, tucking the sack within his vest. "When the giant inhales it, he should fall asleep," she explained.

Mulan accepted her defeat with poise, determined to find another method of fulfilling her quest. When she disappeared from view, the man made his way into the giant's lair.

.

* * *

.

The Man in Black surveyed the area, brushing past columns made entirely of gems and coins. He delayed his search momentarily, taking the time to inspect an especially lustrous doubloon, taking in its scent.

He pocketed the coin and resumed his hunt when he felt the ground abruptly shake beneath him. He extended his limbs outward to maintain his balance, the tremors coming in shorter intervals. The man patted the bag Mulan gave him, knowing he would soon need it.

The pirate's eyes darted in all directions, sprinting down the hallway.

"Who goes there!?" the giant's voice reverberated through the corridor, treasures trickling down from their heaps.

"Oi! Hey!" the Man in Black shouted back. He perched himself on some fallen debris but only managed to reach the height of the titan's elbows. "Yeah, you! I'm right here!"

His provocation had its desired effect. The giant, who proclaimed his name to be Anton, charged towards him as he bared his teeth.

"Filthy human!" Anton followed him as he hopped from one rigid podium to the next, his speed unparalleled. "You think you can steal from me? You humans are all the same!"

The Captain kept moving, knowing it would only take a temporary lapse for the giant to catch him. If the legends were true, he'd be devoured in an instant, his bones used as toothpicks.

When the pirate ran out of footing, he leapt onto an neighboring statue, embedding his hook into the sculpture's clavicle. The giant lost sight of his target briefly, his enormous head rotating from side to side.

"Show yourself!" Anton yelled, knocking over a pillar of sparkling jewels.

"With pleasure," the man said, producing the sack of powder and hurling it up at the giant's cheek. The pouch ruptured, the sleep-inducing particles invading Anton's nostrils.

The giant swayed before going limp entirely, his body falling down like a gigantic rag doll. The pirate braced himself against the statue as the vibrations subsided. He intermittently scaled down the alabaster monument, walking over to the slumbering colossus.

"I don't envy the headache you will have when you awake," the Man in Black commented, poking at Anton with his boot. "But in the meantime, rest well and dream of large women."

He nimbly scooped up a fallen diamond from the floor before dashing off to the find the royal prisoner.

.

* * *

.**  
**

The long passageway terminated at an open area filled with an even wider variety of hoarded treasure. It was a testament to the importance of his objective that instead of plotting manners in which to steal most of the lair's contents, the pirate only cared about the two people that stood in the middle of the mess.

At the center of the clearance was a gilded cage, much taller than the bald man and his captive who stood in front of it.

As the Captain stepped closer, he saw that the older man—Claude he believed his name was—held a dagger to the princess' throat. She was blindfolded and had her hands tied, but he knew she could feel the cool metal against her skin.

The Man in Black spotted some fresh scratches on Claude's face and noted that his pale orange jacket was ripped as well. The princess' hair was disheveled, the blindfold askew. She had put up quite the fight. _Tough lass,_ he thought.

"So it's down to me and you," Claude said with pride. He caught the pirate walking towards them—too close—and he pressed the dagger harder into Emma. The action made her gulp involuntarily. "If you wish her dead, by all means keep moving."

The Captain didn't respond well to threats but even he wasn't fast enough to prevent the coward from slitting her throat. He held his arms up, willing to play along.

"Perhaps we can reach an arrangement," he suggested, an airiness to his words.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm afraid, mate, we are at an impasse." The Man in Black brought his arms down, thumb tucked into his belt. He stood there casually, putting Claude at ease. He released his tense hold on the dagger, naturally moving the blade away from Emma.

"I'm afraid so," Clause replied, puffing out his chest. The Captain stifled a laugh. It seemed the queen had become desperate with her choice of cohorts.

"I can't compete with you physically, but I'm much smarter than a barbarian like you," said Claude.

The pirate flicked his tongue against his teeth. The man was truly testing his patience. "You're _that_ smart?" he disputed, his foot inching nearer to where they stood.

"Of course."

"Well in that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits." The Man in Black glanced over at Emma, who appeared intrigued by their conversation. "For the princess."

Claude was so excited by the prospect of defeating him, so charmed by him that he hadn't detected the Captain's subtle steps; he was now standing with Claude, right beside the golden cage.

"I accept," he said, moving a fraction away from the princess. The pirate saw his opening and grinned before stabbing Claude in the neck with his hook.

Claude made a choking noise, releasing Emma from his hold and grasping at the piece of metal lodged into his windpipe.

"Perhaps I should have made it clear that the challenge was to the death."

The pirate extracted his hook from the dying man, letting him topple over a pile of gemstones. Wiping off his artificial appendage, the pirate bent down to assist Emma, who had fallen over.

He cut away at the rope that bound her wrists, feeling the tension in her muscles. She breathed heavily but never opened her mouth. Her features where stiff, caused partially by the helplessness of not being able to see.

The Man in Black removed the rag from her eyes, instinctively tucking a tuft of hair over her shoulder. Emma balked at the contact, rubbing her arms to stimulate blood flow.

"Who are you?"

"No one to be trifled with. That is all you ever need know," he said, kneeling before her. He extended his hand out for her to take. "Now come along, Swan."

Emma motioned to accept the gesture, watching him intently. She took his hand, clutching it hard to restrain him before punching him square in the jaw.

The Captain stumbled, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Emma bolted out of the giant's lair, leaving the pirate behind.

.

.


	4. Iocane

.

Chapter Four: Iocane

.

Snow White walked down a dimly lit corridor, the rusted candle holder in her hand providing necessary illumination.

It was still early in the afternoon—though it seemed much more time had passed since she awoke that morning to the news of her daughter's disappearance—but the Evil Queen's castle always held a dark presence to it. Her family's rooms resided on the highest levels of the palace, where practically no light touched. Snow was certain Regina did this on purpose.

Her home wasn't as she remembered it visually: the wooden decor and brick foundation had been replaced with unforgiving rock and glass; almost completely artificial. Nevertheless, Snow knew her way around the space and easily found her way to her grandson's room.

She opened the door gingerly, aware of the delicate state he was in. Their circumstances were such that no ten year old should have to bare, but Henry managed, and always with a smile.

Snow could hear his snoring before she saw him, his body partially covered by the bedsheets, his arm and leg poking out at the sides. His face looked calm, peaceful; she could pretend that he hadn't been hysterically crying nearly an hour before, pleading with her and David to do something.

But they could do nothing; it was Regina who had all the power.

As she tucked away stray hairs from his temple, Snow thought on possible options for accelerating the search the queen had assured her was well under way. The whole thing had been handled very oddly: no large mass of soldiers sent to investigate, no word of possible culprits, no public outcry for their beloved princess' return.

No one, other than her family members, even spoke of the incident unless asked. And all they did for the better part of the day was that: ask and prod and query.

She left the cup of milk she had brought up for him on the nightstand, pushing aside an expensive gift Regina had placed there, and exited the room.

Briskly pacing down the hall, Snow strode with purpose: she would harass the queen into submission; she would get the answers that had been denied her. _She'll turn me into a toad_, she thought, _but that's a risk I'm willing to take_.

.

* * *

.**  
**

Regina inhabited the sanctuary that was her bedroom, an ample area that suited many functions. She sat on her favorite chair, a thorny piece of furniture in the corner of her chamber, giving her full view of the space. Her arms were wrapped over the armrest, legs crossed as she reclined further into her seat.

Despite her limp posture, the Evil Queen was under great stress. Her scheme to be rid of Emma had been moderately successful: the princess was gone and Regina was in no way implicated. Timing, Regina had learned, was a crucial component to her plan. Making her disappearance public was a strategical endeavor: she hadn't wanted to announce anything until she was assured Emma was secured in a designated location.

But she received no update from her hired henchmen; they had not reached the delegated spot.

Had they betrayed her? Had someone intervened? Or had assigning two unknowns with a task so important—and needlessly complicated, apparently—been a failing on her part?

Compounded with the incessant whining of the two idiots, Regina was uncertain of how to move forward. The batch of soldiers she sent to trail her kidnappers would hopefully have better luck.

Abruptly, Cora manifested herself into the room, a puff of purple smoke dissipating in her wake. The presence of her mother further irritated the queen. Now was not the time for a lecture.

"I'm sure you're aware there's a door," Regina said, pointing lazily to her left.

Cora looked over to where her daughter gestured, flattening the creases in her gown. "But where's the fun in that?"

Regina sat up, hands now in her lap. "If you have a solution to my problem, I'd be pleased to hear it."

"_Our_ problem, dear," Cora reassured through thin lips. Her comfort sounded more like a grammar lesson, but the queen was surprised by the rare display of affection. "You need to give them more time. In the meantime—"

"They're useless as far as I'm concerned," Regina interrupted. "I don't know why you recommended her in the first place."

"The warrior girl is very capable. And she has a powerful incentive," Cora mused, knowing the appropriation of the sleeping beauty's heart would be profitable one day. "_In the meantime_, I think it best to announce Emma's… unfortunate incident."

"And then what?" Regina huffed, her usual temper reduced to a pathetic sadness. "I don't want that woman in this castle. She's a terrible influence on Henry."

Since their arrival in her home, the queen was perturbed by the child's lack of discipline but had grown to love him. Emma's parenting skills were questionable: she seemed more concerned with being his friend than his mother. Real parenting was about setting rules and establishing limitations.

Her plan was to stage Emma's murder, have her taken care of miles away from the kingdom. She even considered blaming Emma's death on a neighboring kingdom. They were due for another war, surely. Regina imagined she'd be seen as a symbol of strength as she worked to avenge their fallen princess. Then, at last, her people would love her.

Now matters were more complex. With no guarantee that Emma was in her possession, the next best course was to make considerable efforts to rescue her. "If I don't find her," Regina predicted, "it will reflect poorly on me."

But even if she found her, the queen would be in the same position as before. Emma would still be around, and the wedding would still be underway.

"May I make a suggestion," Cora hummed, "as someone who's more experienced at this than you."

Regina clenched her teeth, unhappy with her mother's insinuation. She looked away, signaling for her to proceed. "You're doing everything within your power to distance yourself from this, which is meritable, but unwise."

Cora took a seat next to her daughter. The chair was much smaller in size, dull when compared to Regina's extravagant piece. "You shouldn't get in the habit of having other people do your dirty work."

"It's worked well for me in the past," Regina said wickedly, recalling her former husband's demise.

"If you want something done right…"

"What would _you_ do, then?"

"Simple: bring her back here and kill her yourself." Her voice bounced with each word as though her solution was the most obvious thing.

"And how do you propose I do that without it being traced back to me?" the Evil Queen asked condescendingly.

Cora smiled, deciding not to take offense to her daughter's tone. She leaned forward in her seat and opened her gloved palm. The signature purple smoke formed in her hand, revealing a slender opaque vial. Regina looked at it quizzically, unsure of what her mother had produced.

"What is—"

"This, my dear," Cora uttered enthusiastically. "is iocane powder." Delicately, she removed the cap, white specks floating in the air. "It's among the more deadlier poisons known to man. Odorless, tasteless, and dissolves instantly into liquid; it's… _untraceabl_e."

Regina was captivated by the substance, inspecting the cardboard container. "Are you sure this will work?"

"It should," Cora gloated. "It's what I used to kill Queen Eva."

From outside her quarters, Regina heard something drop to the floor, a piercing crash followed by a softer thud. They bolted into standing, their heads sharply turning in unison. They weren't alone.

In the hallway, Snow clutched her hand to her mouth, holding back a painful cry that was lodged in her throat. Tears began to form in her eyes, a few streams falling down her face. Cora's admission was shocking and detestable; but the realization that Regina was behind Emma's kidnapping is what motivated her into action.

She could hear that they had become aware of her presence. By herself, Snow knew, she was no match for their magic. She had to get away.

Having dropped her light source, Snow ran down the hall in complete darkness, relying on her familiarity with the castle to guide her. She bumped along the walls, stubbing her toes and scraping her elbows along the way, tripping over flights of stairs. Her feet led her to the room she shared with her husband, who was sitting on their bed.

Snow slammed the door behind her, panting harshly as she made her way across the room. David immediately got up, his arms stretched out to receive his distraught wife.

"_Shhh_," he soothed, rubbing her back. "It's ok. We're all upset about Emma. We'll find her," he reassured, holding Snow tightly.

She shook her head violently against him, her long black hair sticking to her wet cheeks. "No, no," Snow sobbed. "You don't understand… Regina, she—she did this."

David struggled to understand her, extending his arms while still holding onto Snow's shoulders. He bent down to look her in the eyes, finding them bloodshot and damp.

"She took Emma," Snow said between gasping breaths. "She arranged the whole thing… and my mother—_oh, mother_." Snow fell back into whaling cries. "She's planning to poison Emma!" David hugged her again, rocking their bodies back and forth. He let her news settle in as she calmed down.

Regina had taken his little girl. He was done playing her game. David was going to end this once and for all.

At the sound of crumbling stone, the pair became alert. Regina and Cora had followed her here, Snow realized. They had to leave the castle or they would certainly be killed. She looked at David and he read her easily, grabbing hold of her hand as he looked for an exit.

The front door to their bedroom was crumbling away, thick vines protruding through the growing cracks. On their own, they were formidable foes, but together they seemed unstoppable. Finding a connecting door to an adjacent chamber, David kicked at it mercilessly until it gave way. It wouldn't be long before they would follow them there too; they had to keep moving.

"Henry," Snow whispered coarsely. "We have to get Henry."

They skipped across several rooms, punting and pounding at entryways until they made it the hallway on the other side of the palace. In the distance, they could hear the castle collapsing, echoing crashes suffocating them.

Henry's room, by Regina's design, was located in the west wing, a few floors directly above the queen's own bedchamber. They sprinted through nearly the entire expanse of the estate, dodging the attacking branches that only multiplied as the hunt continued.

Upon reaching their grandson's door, Snow promptly seized the knob, tugging repeatedly. "It's stuck," she grunted as she kept pulling, caught between an impulse to break it down, and not wanting to frighten an already shaken little boy.

"_Regina_," David snarled, knowing it was she who was keeping them from Henry.

He scanned the area for possible items that could help them; weapons that were used for decoration, a discarded cleaning tool, a large piece of rumple—anything. But nothing could be found in the darkness.

Suddenly, monstrous vines penetrated the walls at either side of them, the castle decaying away beneath them. The crawling roots effectively blocked them from Henry's room, and threatened to trap them as well. Snow could make out the faint laughter of one of them and she shivered at the eeriness of it. _How could they be so heartless?_

"There's no escape," they heard Cora say. "There is no hope," Regina added.

As they clung to one another, David adjusted his head to the side. On their right was a large window, the only one at the end of the passage. Stripped of its black curtains by the probing vines, the former prince had found a way for them to survive.

"We have to jump," he murmured into Snow's ear. "Through the window. It's the only way."

"But what about Henry—"

"We can't reach him," he said, his voice cracking at the idea of leaving him behind. "He'll be safe here. Regina won't hurt him; he's the only one of us who can say that."

Snow's features wrinkled as new tears welled up in her eyes. Her lips squeezed firmly into a frown, she glanced over at the window. "We can't make him fugitives like us," David asserted, fighting back tears of his own. "We have to give him his best chance."

The floor around them on the verge of breaking away completely, Snow wordlessly consented to her husband's plan. Shoving a massive branch from their path, Snow and Charming rushed down the hall and leapt from the window ledge.

They fell painfully onto some manicured shrubbery, tumbling down the castle grounds. Once on their feet, they ran into the wild forest, praying they would not be caught.

.

* * *

.**  
**

Emma jumped off the beanstalk when she saw she was close enough to the ground to make a safe landing. She wanted desperately to be as far removed from the overgrown plant as possible, as well as the people who were still atop it.

Several hours had passed since she first began the climb. It was already well into the afternoon, the sun low in the sky.

She allowed herself a smile as she trekked through the tall grass, lifting her dress as it scraped along the dry dirt. Emma hadn't needed saving (she was confident that, eventually, she would have found a way to be rid of Claude on her own) and now she could return to the Evil Queen's castle, surprised by her desire to return to that toxic place.

_It's where my family is_, she thought, _and that's all that matters._

Emma made it to the top of a hill, its grass much greener and moist than the field she left behind. From here she could get a good view of the land and plan her return. She flexed her right hand—the one she used to clock the one-handed pirate, she remembered proudly—and felt the soreness becoming more pronounced.

"Hurts, does it?"

She turned around instantly at the sound of someone else, her golden hair following her movement seconds later. A few feet away stood the Man in Black, theatrically fixing his mandible as he approached her. "I can assure you, lass, the pain is felt much more by the face you _punched_," he said.

The pirate walked nearer to her, letting the incline of the hill delay his progression. His expression was grave, angry. It was not the menacing look of someone like the queen. No, Emma assessed as he put one foot in front of the other: he looked like a man who had been insulted, betrayed even.

He held out his hook, knowing how to angle in such a fashion as to seem casual while still evoking fright. His slow pace was intentional, drawing out an inevitable confrontation between them. _Never wound what you can not kill,_ Emma reproached herself.

She recalled the way he, without hesitation, stabbed her captor in the neck. Drops of blood had stained her gown, the dots appearing only as darker shades of red. Emma knew who this man was, his cruelty revealing everything.

"You're Captain Hook."

"Ah, so you've heard of me," he responded, sincerely pleased his reputation preceded him. He stopped a few paces short of her, able to look out on the same view she beheld minutes ago.

"You called me _'Swan' _up there," she said, keeping the conversation going. "How do you know who I am?"

"Oh, everyone knows who you are." Hook's eyes opened up brightly, his face taking on a younger appearance. "You're all anyone talks about."

Emma quirked her brow and titled her head back. She was clearly unimpressed. He wanted her for something, most likely another ransom or reward. Emma was sick of it. And then it hit her: her full name was never used when addressing the public. She had always been Emma, the daughter of Snow White, the princess who had returned—and a number of other stately descriptions, but never the surname she had grown up with.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," she breathed, taking a single step closer to him. "I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me."

Hook watched her for a small period, a grin gradually forming on his mouth. The smile reached his eyes for a brief moment but was gone as soon as it formed. "That you are, love."

He shifted to the side, watching the wind blow through the trees below. They were at the edge of an almost sheer ravine, the ground flat at the bottom. The drop was sharp and severe.

"We have a mutual acquaintance," he conceded, circling Emma. "A farm boy named Baelfire, but you most likely knew him as Neal."

Her chest tightened at hearing the name but she maintained an indifferent exterior. "Not the response I expected," he said quietly, taken aback by her lack of reaction.

She didn't say a word, only stood awkwardly as the pirate marched around. "I remember him quite vividly, you see. When I captured him"—Hook paused to let the information sink in—"he was running from someone very powerful indeed. He was to walk the plank one morning when he spoke of a girl who was waiting for him back home. I can only assume he meant you."

Hook's right hand gestured toward her, illustrating his point. She turned slightly, facing him when he came to the front of her.

"Why's that?" she asked acutely.

"He described you in detail, and yours is a beauty one doesn't soon forget." Hook's gaze flicked to Emma's lips. Taut and serious, they held a delicate pink tint. The rest of her face, however, was frigid and hard. She was so unlike what he had envisioned. "Fortunate he can't see what you _really_ are," the pirate sneered.

"And what am I?"

"Dead," he spat ferociously. "Dried up, a shell." Hook advanced, now inches away from the princess. "He talked of someone who was full of hope and possibility. Now look at you. Cold. Emotionless. He told me he loved you, but I see now it was one-sided, poor lad. Tell me, have you ever even _been_ in love?"

At his last, mocking question, Emma glared at him, looking the Captain directly in the eye. The fire her stare possessed bewildered him; fascinated him. His jaw relaxed from its clenched state, his features softening as he noticed that hers did the same.

He studied her, seeing a glimmer of passion within her that she tried to repress. She severed the moment, her mask returning as she took a step back. "No," she affirmed, "I have never been in love."

_Incapable of love_, he would have said but that would be a lie. Hook could see she was more than capable of it.

The tension dissipated, and Emma began to walk down the hill. If he had wanted to take her by force, she concluded, he wouldn't have wasted time talking. _Or maybe he just really likes the sound of his own voice._

Without warning, Emma felt a pull on her arm, the feeling of curved metal entering the space underneath her sleeve. Hook was surprised to find the princess' speed matched his own as she took hold of his arm and thrust him into the ground. Hook adapted quickly and soon had the princess beneath him as they wrestled.

"Quite passionate, Swan. I'll admit this isn't quite how I pictured getting you on your back."

"Keep dreaming."

Emma kneed the pirate in the gut, an audible moan escaping him. She shoved him off her and slammed him against the pasture. Her thighs gripped his sides while he recovered from the blow to his skull that had struck a piece of rock.

Emma extracted a small object from a fold in her bodice: the dagger that once belonged to Claude. She pressed it against Hook's neck, his muscles stiffening as he struggled to keep his head up.

"Look," she said, out of breath. "I am _tired_ of being treated like some pawn. No one is gonna stop me from getting back to my son. Now I am going to go the queen's castle and I would appreciate it," she stated strongly, "if you would stop getting in the way."

She released Hook from under her, kicking at him for good measure. The blade still in hand, she began breaking away from him, her shoulders sagging as a knight's would after a rigorous battle.

The Captain chuckled, letting out a genuine laugh. "The queen's castle?" he questioned, dusting himself off. "After all that, you're going _back_?"

The princess scrunched her face, clearly confused by his skepticism. "You really have no idea, do you lass?" There was a hint of sympathy in his tone that made her stop. "The Evil Queen's the one who ordered your abduction."

Emma shook her head in disbelief, not trusting the word of a man who sought to capture her for himself. Yet, he seemed more honorable than most, she thought. Surely a man willing to murder a complete stranger wouldn't have any qualms over using violence to subdue her. But even if she did believe him, it changed nothing. Henry, and her parents, were still in Regina's palace, and that was where she belonged.

"It would appear our goals are aligned," Hook offered. He remained in the same spot but his voice carried over. "We both want the same thing: to get to the queen's castle."

The Captain observed that his words, while mostly ignored, had managed to slow her down. She only took the occasional step as he spoke, unwilling to admit her interest in his proposition. _I do love a challenge._

"What business do _you_ have with her?" Emma asked finally, turning about face.

Hook hesitated for a second but decided that she earned his honesty. "I was to do as you might have expected. The plan was to ransom you; to bring you to the Evil Queen in exchange for her assistance with... a personal matter."

The pirate treaded downhill, seeking to bridge the gap that had formed between them. "I'll admit, when that warrior woman told me of the queen's involvement in your situation, I had second thoughts about delivering you to her. You're more valuable that I had originally thought," he remarked, his pitch reduced to a lustful whisper. "But since you've already decided to return, well..."

"A bargaining chip? That's what I am to you?"

"A very beautiful bargaining chip at that," he smirked, aware that his charm would not work to persuade her._ It was worth the attempt._ "I see no conflict. You help me get what I want, and I escort you to the palace."

"You make it sound like you're doing me a favor," she replied dryly, arms folded in front of her chest.

"The way I see it, darling, I am. If I'm not mistaken, you were blindfolded for most of your journey. I imagine you're a bit lost."

Emma lowered her head, avoiding his gaze. He was right. While she had some idea of where Mulan and Claude had taken her, she knew it would take her days to find her way back. She didn't have that kind of time.

Just then, Emma heard a series of clomping noises from far off. She peeked over the edge of the hill, Hook mirroring her actions, and saw a band of soldiers approaching.

Adrenaline pumped through Emma as her mind raced. If she accepted Hook's allegation regarding Regina—and to his credit, he had been upfront with her thus far, which she respected—then Henry's life was in even greater danger.

"Time is of the essence I'm afraid," the Man in Black said, uneasy at the prospect of being arrested by the Evil Queen's men.

She gave him an odd look, a mixture of annoyance and distress. Emma weighed her options; the figures below became larger as they drew closer. She could handle the pirate, she convinced herself. And he was cooperative when the circumstances required it.

"Tick tock."

"Fine," she bit out. "But we do this _my way_, understand?" Emma raised the dagger once more and pointed it at the pirate's chin. "We don't stop until we get there, and if you lay a finger on me I'll cut off your other hand."

She began making her way down the ravine, certain Hook was following her. "As you wish," he said sarcastically, a single eyebrow shooting up his forehead.

.

* * *

.**  
**

In her garden, Regina stood under an apple tree, its fruit a rich shade of red. She picked one and inspected it before taking a large bite. The tree itself was unique in the entire kingdom, its branches and trunk a color that seemed otherworldly. It was truly one of a kind.

"There's no sign of the bandits, my lady." An older soldier, in command of her small task force reported back to the queen, helmet tucked into his elbow as he bowed down.

They had been instructed to pursue a pair of intruders who were last seen at the young prince's door; the matter was of great importance to her majesty. The men had been told they were specifically chosen for their tracking skills, and assigned with finding the crooks.

Regina was displeased with the news. She craved to cause Snow White the same amount of discomfort that she felt while the former royal family infected her home. But they held no power now; they were no longer her priority.

"Very well," she said, throwing the Honeycrisp apple over her shoulder. "Carry on with your patrol. But don't think I'll forget this failure, Berkley."

The Evil Queen entered the castle gates, her pinky wiping away smeared lipstick. Cora's words of advice repeated themselves in her mind: if she wanted to fix this mess and find Emma, she had to do so herself. She thought of Henry and how he needed her now more than ever; she was the only one who remained at his side. Leaving him now was not an option.

_I'll send my mother instead_, Regina decided. _She could use the fresh air. _

_._

* * *

.

Racing along the ravine floor, Emma glanced up in search of the advancing soldiers. She and the Captain has successfully evaded them, hidden well from sight. She thought how they might remained concealed once they reached more expansive territory.

Hook had managed to become the leader of their expedition, trekking through the steep incline of the land. "They're too late," he cackled, pointing to the queen's men that stood a considerable distance from them.

"They'll spot us eventually," she supplemented, seeking to deflate his huge ego. An inflated sense of self could only hinder them. "We just need to stay ahead of them."

Emma observed him for a while, noticing the swagger in his gait, the casual way he handled his hook. His stride was confident and knowledgeable. She disliked the idea of him knowing more than she did.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"Just down this path," he answered. "It's the quickest way to the castle, and I'm certain the queen's men won't follow us there."

The hillside ridge closed in around them, the path becoming more narrow and jagged as they progressed. Hook stopped in front of barrier made entirely of creeping plants, strips of weeds trickling down like a curtain over the dense area. Emma tip-toed to look over his frame, the passage too restricted to allow for them to stand side-by-side. Feeling her efforts behind him, Hook angled his body, now perpendicular to hers.

The wet marsh before them resembled a myth from her childhood, a story meant to frighten little boys and girls into doing their chores and going to bed at the proper hour. "This isn't what I think it is."

"The Fire Swamp, yes. As I've said, it's the fastest way to your boy." The pirate pointed at it, marveling at the deep green hue of the bog. Its leaves resembled a place he inhabited for nearly a decade before deciding to return to the Enchanted Forest. The swamp felt familiar, just begging to be tamed.

"No one's ever made it _out_ of the Fire Swamp," Emma tested, anticipating an explanation that would convince her to take another step.

"You only say that because no one ever has," he joked. "Luckily, you've got me to protect you."

The derisive look the princess gave him did nothing to alter his expression. She had issues with relinquishing control, among other things. Hook knew they had to work as a team to make it out of the Fire Swamp alive. She had to trust him, or at the very least learn to take instruction.

"Let's get this over with." Emma rolled her eyes as she snaked past him, determined to be the leader this time. "Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second," she said, peering back at him.

"I would despair if you did."

.

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	5. Fire Swamp, pt 1

**A/N: I broke this chapter into 2 sections, since it was a little long and I'll be out of the country for a week. Part 2 will be posted when I get back. Thanks for all the reviews!**

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Chapter Five: The Fire Swamp

Part One

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The first thing that struck Emma was the humidity, the thick air engulfing her as they entered the Fire Swamp. The Captain had maneuvered in front of her, moving jauntily along the everglade floor, and she envied his freedom of movement. She wondered how Hook was fairing under all that leather as she noticed his hair dampen slightly in the muggy climate.

Great trees blocked the sun, only allowing intermittent stripes of light to pass through. The ground was a mix of torrid sludge and sand. Emma's dress swept along, the edges blackening as she walked. Enormous roots protruded from below, their varied heights making it difficult to keep from tripping without looking down.

When Emma came upon an especially tall log, she saw a hand reaching out from the corner of her eye. "Come on, then," Hook said, his fingers dancing as they waited impatiently for her.

She gathered up the fabric of her scarlet gown, glowering at him as she accepted the gesture. His grip was firm, the flesh rough under hers. Emma looked away from him as she rose, instead gazing downward and spotting a tattoo on the pirate's wrist: a heart with a sword running through it and a woman's named in the middle. She said nothing of her discovery, letting go of Hook's hand as soon as she regained her balance.

"You know, most men would take your silence as off-putting," he said, somewhat offended that she hadn't at least thanked him for the assistance.

"I'm concentrating," she replied, eyes glued to her feet so as not to fall. "You should be too."

"You're afraid," Hook snickered, glancing over his shoulder to find her anxiety-ridden face. "Afraid to talk, to trust me. But I assure you, lass, things will go a lot smoother if you do."

They descended from the log, Emma refusing Hook's offers for help. She stayed quiet, jumping onto the ground and walking ahead. "Well, I don't need you to share," said Hook. "You're something of an open book."

Emma twisted her head around, tilting it in a way to demonstrate her exasperation._ You don't know me,_ she started to say when she heard a distinct popping sound. Another followed it seconds later, then a third, each time louder and sharper than the one before. Suddenly, a giant spurt of flame leapt up directly in front of Emma, the bottom of her dress catching on fire.

She fell to the swamp floor, feeling the intense heat touch at her feet and ankles. Emma filled her hands with the muddy earth beneath her, throwing it at the flame that threatened to consume her. Without hesitation, Hook scurried towards her, bending down to join her efforts.

His hook tore into the cloth, her hands moving away to support her body instead. The Captain was deep in concentration, concern etched over his features. His metal appendage shifted the dress so as to create folds that would suffocate the fire. As the blaze moved up her dress, so did his movements until Emma's knees were exposed, the bottom portion of her thigh gradually being revealed.

She watched him closely, careful not to get in the way. His hand was quick and she feared being impaled by the pirate's hook. She flustered as he touched her skin, mouth open in amazement. Despite her compromising position, Hook remained focused on his task, promptly extinguishing the fire with his tactic.

Hook smiled at his success, adjusting his shirt collar. He pulled down her dress a little, observing the scorch marks that had damaged it and the red blemishes on Emma's leg. He leaned back as he took a flask from his belt and removed the cap with his teeth.

Emma hissed in discomfort as Hook poured the liquid contents onto her lacerations. "What the hell is that?"

"It's rum, and a bloody waste of it."

Although annoyed, he handled her carefully, in contrast to the way he discarded the empty flask. "So now you're gonna be a gentleman," she said dryly, flinching at the sting of the alcohol.

"Oh, I'm always a gentleman," he responded. His voice was low as he glided his hand along her calve, his ruby-encrusted ring skidding along the muscle. He grabbed Emma's hand before standing up, bringing her along with him. "Singed a bit, were you?"

"No," she answered quickly, patting the dirt off her palms. She marched on with a minor limp that faded as they pressed on. Emma could feel him smirking from behind, coming to stride parallel with her. They continued to walk that way, side-by-side, in silence.

.

* * *

.**  
**

The sulfurous marsh wasn't as daunting to Emma as it had been upon initially entering it. The same rumored dangers of the Fire Swamp applied but the princess felt more capable of handling them the deeper they got. The rips in her dress allowing for easier motion, Emma surveyed their wet environment, taking in the black-green of the hanging leaves and pale brown of the aging trees.

"He never told you he was leaving." It had the markings of a question, but Hook phrased it as a statement of fact. Emma knew exactly who he was talking about and she was adamant in avoiding the subject. _This is the last thing I need._

They heard the unmistakeable popping noise that signaled an oncoming burst of fire. Synchronized, they hopped to the side, Hook clinging to a tree trunk as they waited for the flames to be die out on their own.

"It occurs to me that Baelfire might not have been completely honest with me," he continued. "With either of us, as it turns out."

She grunted knowingly, the character trait one she was all too familiar with. Neal had been the secretive kind, never letting anyone fully in. She supposed that now, in some ways, she had mimicked that tendency. Hook read her body language, understanding that she agreed with his assessment; that their history was a complicated one.

Emma pushed away drooping vines from her path, some heavier than others. She could hear the Captain swatting away at them with his hook, severing a few as they trekked through the humid wetland. The sun slanted down at a different angle, letting her know they were in another section of the swamp.

"Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it?"

"Well some of us can't bed the local barmaid whenever we feel like it," she deadpanned, growing tired of his persistence. She wasn't interested in sharing secrets with a merciless criminal. Did he ever give up?

"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?" he grinned, prodding a weed out of place for her, the plant shrieking at the disturbance. "I simply mean," Hook began again, his tone more candid. "I'm beginning to understand what motivates you."

"Right now the only thing that motivates me is Henry."

Henry, the name of her son, he assumed; it was a strong name by Hook's standards. He imagined the boy to be a miniature version of his mother, all sass hidden away behind a tough facade. _I might like to meet this boy one day_, he thought.

"You don't want to leave him," the pirate gauged. "You don't want to abandon him the way you were abandoned."

"I wasn't—" she cut herself off, making eye contact with Hook. He studied her reaction, daring her to contradict his evaluation. She conceded, letting out a held breath. Her body relaxed with the action, hands resting on her hips.

"Like I said, love. Open book."

Emma said nothing, knowing she wasn't the type to be so transparent. _A lucky guess_, she thought; the pirate had divined what he knew of Neal and married it with his limited insight on her. The fact that she didn't want to desert her son was obvious; she had told him as much back on the hill. She spied the Captain as he blindly took a few steps backward, and spotted a monstrous flower directly behind him.

"Whoa!" she warned, pulling on the lapels of his vest. Hook's body hung over the venomous plant, barely missing it as she brought him to her. "That thing's poisonous," Emma explained, drawing on a memory from her youth.

The plant was native—and quite rare—to the Enchanted Forest. As a child, Emma had been stung by one much smaller than this. She had spent days in bed, nursed diligently by her parents. The nostalgia bore into her chest, which was currently flush against Hook's torso.

"It's a trap. You should watch where you're going," she said slowly, pushing the pirate away.

"That's a plausible excuse for grabbing me." Hook gazed at the princess with a mischievous countenance. "But next time, don't stand on ceremony."

_There won't be a next time_, Emma promised herself. Up close, Hook smelled of booze and salt water, his musk irrefutably his own. Even after a few hours with him, she had become well acquainted with his scent in the clammy and sweaty atmosphere. Not entirely repulsive, she thought, but she still yearned to be separated from him.

As she looked away, Emma caught sight of something: a rodent of unusual size stampeding towards them. There was never a moment's rest. "Watch out!" she yelled as she shoved Hook out of the way. The animal struck her instead, her spine colliding with the dingy ground.

Hook got on his feet hastily, his companion wrestling with the beast several feet away. He dashed towards her when he saw more rodents peeking out from behind decaying patches of shrubbery.

"Swan!" he called out, removing his sword from its sheath. "Use this!"

She looked up, seeing the blade in mid-air as it was thrown, catching it with her free hand as she kept the gigantic rat at bay. It's fangs pinched at her, biting off bits of fabric and hair as she fought with it. At the close range, Emma couldn't strike at the large creature and her dagger was cramped inside her shoe. She was only able to roll with it as the rodent kept lunging at her.

Emma heard the popping noise again and whirled them both to the side. Estimating where the spurt would breach, she extended her arms outward, distancing the rat from herself as the flames enveloped the animal. It whined in agony, it's boorish fur igniting instantly.

She got up, searching for Hook. Emma found him on the other side of the turf. Three rodents, all slightly smaller than the beast she encountered, surrounded him. He kicked at them, able to crush one of the rat's paws with his foot, bones crunching as it screeched.

While his hook was a useful weapon a majority of the time, it proved too short to reach the creatures from afar. The pirate managed to stab at them, killing two. The last rodent bit down hard on his leg, the Captain wailing in pain.

Sword rigidly in hand, Emma bolted towards them, planting her feet securely as she lifted the steel. Bringing it down with considerable force, the princess impaled the animal, blood staining the length of the blade. Hook's leg was freed from the rat's jaw, tumbling backward as he watched Emma pierce the creature repeatedly until it went limp.

She pulled the saber out of the carcass, joining Hook by the log he was pressed up against. "You are bloody brilliant," he beamed, accepting her hand as they got upright. "Amazing."

Emma brushed off the compliments, unsure of how to graciously receive them. "We should go," she said, moving to hand the pirate back his sword.

"I don't mean to upset you, Emma," he teased, "but I think we make quite the team." He tapped at the wound on his leg, the injury merely superficial. Hook saw the blade in the princess' grasp, it's length presented to him. She was eager to return it, but no, he ruminated. She could wield it as well as he could. "Hold on to it."

She began to protest but he stopped her. "I insist," he stated. "Besides, who will defend my honor if not you?"

The joke earned a smirk from Emma, taking back the sword and tucking it into the fold of her bodice. She was surprised by his confidence in her and her moderate fighting abilities. If he could trust her with his weapon, perhaps she could begin to trust him as well.

"Red suits you," he commented kindly, the praise sincere. Hook hadn't realized how well the color appeared against her skin. He stared at her until the sword was secure. The sight of her—tousled locks over her dewey face—sent chills through him. "Though I imagine you'd look better in leather."

"Maybe in another life." She blushed to some degree, her cheeks already hot from the onslaught. Emma lowered her head, fixing her garment before departing from the grotesque scene and heading further into the swamp.

.

* * *

.**  
**

On a dirt road on the outskirts of the forest, an abundant wagon drove by, carrying an assortment of passengers. As the carriage neared a small village, the occupants heard the hollering roar of a crowd blocking the trail. The driver stopped, ordering for the travelers to vacate. The ride was over.

One man skipped off lazily, combing his fingers through his frizzy brown hair. A bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way to the nearest bar, exhausted from his long journey.

As he walked around the woodland town, he saw the same crowd of angry villagers and froze. They were being searched and aggressively questioned by soldiers in pointy dark armor whose faces were obscured by hefty helmets with feathers bulging from the tops. _The queen's men_, the man surmised, _harassing innocent civilians. _

Not much had changed since the last time he stepped foot in the kingdom.

He overheard the people's complaints, and concerns: half of them were embittered by the soldiers' interrogations, the other half grateful that such considerable effort was being made to learn of the princess' whereabouts.

It was the story the man couldn't escape since his return: the tale of the lost princess, taken by mercenaries—no, it had been noblemen from a rival empire. He preferred the version that, while not as popular, was at least the most scandalous: that the princess had run off with a kitchen boy to avoid marrying a man nearly twice her age.

_That sounds more like the Emma I know. _

Finding a bucket filled to the brim with rain water, the man washed his face, his tanned skin becoming shades lighter as it was cleansed. He slicked back his fluffed hair, the strands curling at the ends. He entered a tavern, deciding he needed sleep more than he needed a drink. At the entrance, he requested a room for just the night, never at ease staying in one place for longer than that.

"Name, sir?"

"Neal," he mumbled, teeth bared in a wide smile.

.

.


	6. Fire Swamp, pt 2

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Chapter Six: The Fire Swamp

Part Two

.

The Fire Swamp was alive with the chirping and buzzing of insects. How anything managed to survive in the horrid everglade Emma would never know. Still, it made the silence that had fallen between she and Hook bearable.

The pirate's propensity for conversation had subsided shortly after the skirmish with the repulsive rodents. He would occasionally glance at her direction, she noticed, but didn't say a word. In the instances when Emma's thoughts weren't occupied by Henry, or her parents, she found herself thinking of Hook. For a man who was able to surmise so much about her, she hardly knew anything of him.

At first she had no interest in his past, sizing him up the moment she laid eyes on him. But now, she could admit she was curious. He seemed like two people combined into one: at times a notoriously ruthless sea captain, and others a thrill-seeking explorer who lived solely in the moment.

"Who's Milah?" she blurted out, remembering the name on his tattoo. The query made him tense up, his foot hovering in the air before softly touching the ground.

It had been years since he had heard the name spoken aloud. His instinct was to deflect the topic and use it as a source for banter. But her memory deserved more respect than that. Hook inclined his head, eyelids concealed in shadow.

"Someone from long ago," he answered.

"Where is she?"

"She's gone." Hook coughed, resuming his pace as he treaded along the clay path. Emma scoped his expression as he passed her, identifying his disposition as one she knew all too well.

"Is she—" Emma began, amending her words so as to be more sensitive. "Is that why you need the queen's help?"

Hook swung back around, undoubtedly agitated by the discussion's trajectory. "For someone who's never been in love, you're quite perceptive."

"Maybe I was... once," she confessed reluctantly.

It was the first time she verbalized the extent of her feelings for Neal. Not even her mother and father had known, although they may have suspected. The Captain caught the break in her line's delivery and eased off.

"Aye," he confirmed. "But it's bit more complex than that."

Emma held onto a lingering vine, swaying with it as she focused on the pirate's story. "What I told you about Baelfire—Neal, walking the plank was true," said Hook. "While his words were compelling, 'twas his mother that saved him."

"Milah," Emma provided. The Man in Black nodded.

"They hadn't seen one another since he was a boy, but a mother can always recognize her child I suppose." He looked at the princess for affirmation, watching as she exhaled audibly. "We helped the lad escape to another region, far from the demon who had been chasing him."

"Who was chas—"

"His father," Hook snarled. "I assume you've heard of the Dark One?" By her reaction, he knew that she had. "Some months later, his search for Baelfire lead him to my ship. We refused to disclose the boy's location, but the _crocodile _didn't take kindly to the rejection."

Hook stopped his narration, biting his lip as he struggled to control is building rage. "What happened?" Emma asked, thoroughly engrossed.

"He took out her heart," he said bluntly. "Killed her right in front of me. When I tried to avenge her, the demon took my hand"—the pirate lifted his hook, letting the murky ray of light reflect off it—"and I vowed that one day, _one day_ I'd have _his head_."

Emma stared at the Captain as his features contorted in a disheartening manner. Although frightened by his bloodlust, she was affected by his dedication to his lost love. Nearly a decade must have passed, she calculated, and the pain was still so raw. He was stuck, unable to move on from the trauma. _We have that in common_, she thought. Emma hadn't experienced it at quite the same level, she knew. But heartbreak was universal.

"I devoted my life to my revenge," Hook continued. His statement sounded like an epiphany, as though sharing his history with another helped him achieve a sort of clarity. "I traveled to a distant realm, a land where its inhabitants never age."

Emma had never heard of such a place, and realized the detail was unnecessary, but appreciated. It certainly explained his youthful appearance. But he was telling her more out of a need to vent, to be understood.

"I spent several years preparing for a second confrontation with him. When I heard of the existence of a magical dagger that could kill the Dark One, I returned. The Evil Queen is the one rumored to possess it," he summarized, suddenly feeling exposed. He took a few steps away from the princess, scraping at the tip of his hook.

"I'm sorry," Emma muttered. They stayed in a comfortable stillness as she processed all he had divulged. "What will you do," she asked, "if you succeed?"

To his surprise, the pirate honestly didn't know. Hook had never given much thought to the future, his fate tethered solidly to the past. Revenge was an end, not a beginning. He finally made eye contact with her, seeing her gaze void of judgement or pity. He saw within her a genuine compassion, a gradual connection being forged between them. They were kindred, he realized.

After a long pause, Emma spoke again. "Well, at least I know why he left."

The truth about Neal's departure did bring her some closure. He hadn't discarded her, no, but he had still made the decision not to be with her. Images of her parents flashed before her and Emma was sure: when faced between fear and love, you choose love.

"The boy's had a difficult life," Hook added. "But then I imagine everyone has their own tale of woe. Still..." He approached her, ghosting his fingers under her chin, making her meet his eyes again. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

Emma's breath hitched, her heart beating fast within her chest at their proximity. She glanced at his mouth, barely open and sinking closer to her own. His eyelids fluttered shut, hand cupping her cheek. She started leaning into him, but jerked away upon hearing a faint howl. Another threat, she discerned; one they needed to be alert to.

She laughed defensively, stepping away from the Captain, the spell broken. She made it a few feet before the mire floor collapsed underneath her. The soil had turned to quick sand, a terror of the Fire Swamp they had yet to come across. Just like that, she had vanished, absorbed into the ground.

Hook's eyes darted frantically around the sweltering space. "Swan!?" he screamed, digging into the grainy terrain, looking for any trace of her. "Emma!"

He slashed away at a dangling branch, hacking it in half. Hook pulled at it to test its durability, the vine attached firmly to a neighboring tree. The pirate wrapped the weed around his waist and dove head-first into the lightning sand.

Minutes passed, specks of white powder kicked up into the air every so often. A stuffy draft mingled with the unseemly vegetation as a baby rodent scudded from one heap of dried leaves to another.

Then, the sand exploded up as the two of them emerged from its depths. They panted loudly, choking on the minerals as they pulled each other to the surface. Emma's disheveled hair cloaked her head, pellets of sand embedded all over her. She wiped her face as she kept whooping achingly.

Hook was out of breath, slowly removing the vine that was tied around him. He crawled to Emma, pulse pounding and limbs exhausted. Reaching her bent over form, he hugged her tightly. She returned the embrace, her breathing still heavy but not as forced. She clutched at his shirt, shaking from the adrenaline. Hook rested his head in her curve of her neck, greatly disturbed at the prospect of being without her.

When they separated, they stared at each other while maintaining the physical contact. Hook examined her, brushing off her dress as her hands were splayed across his chest. The Captain's eyes were like the sea after a storm, impossibly blue and alive. His angst turned to relief as he became satisfied that she was unharmed.

"Perhaps we should hold hands for the remainder of the trip," he remarked. "Just to be safe."

.

* * *

.**  
**

Night had befallen the swamp, the bog much more terrifying than in the daytime, and certainly much colder. The pair of them set up camp for the evening, which, amazingly, Emma had agreed to without much contestation. After almost drowning in a sea of sand, she knew the Fire Swamp's treacherous tricks had to be handled cautiously; they were both too tired to give their best efforts.

The wind howled; the branches from the cluster of trees above them resembled black fingers laced, threatening to grab them at any moment. Emma shivered in the breeze, hands rubbing against her biceps as she inched closer to the bonfire. She recalled the way the Captain had used his hook to set the kindle alight and chuckled, having acquired a better understanding of the usefulness of his unconventional tool.

The cheerfulness was short lived as Emma thought of the way Henry would have giggled. She pictured him with them, impossibly enthralled by Hook's tales of his many exploits, nose deep in his favorite story book to verify the information. She missed her kid.

"We may as well die here," she murmured, poking at the fire. "We're never getting out of this place."

"Nonsense," the pirate argued. "We've already conquered it, love. What are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp?" he prompted energetically. "One, the flame spurts. Not a problem. Two, those huge vermin, which you deposed of easily enough." He grinned, voice raspy as he remembered how enticing she looked when dispatching the last of the rodents. "Three, the quick sand, but you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too."

Her clips curved up slightly. She heard her mother's words echoing in her mind and contemplated her family's plan to defeat Regina. "I'm supposed to be the savior," she said, borrowing her mother's language, "but I'm not doing much saving, am I?"

"That's a lofty title."

She regarded him, knees tucked under her arms. His position—body draped over some mossy rocks, one leg bent while the other was stretched out—was the complete opposite of her own. His black shirt was practically shredded, portions of his hairy chest peaking through. Fortunately—or, rather, unfortunately—his leather vest kept him mostly covered.

It was her turn to share. "I was supposed to save everyone," she said. "My parents and I had a plan: to take back the kingdom from the inside, and to overthrow the queen."

"So I take it I'm an accomplice to treason," he pointed out cooly. "Splendid."

"It's why I agreed to get married," she went on, eyes narrowed at Hook. "It was one of her conditions. We knew she didn't actually want to live in peace, but I didn't think she'd try to have me killed." Emma looked over at the Captain, his brow arched and arms crossed cynically. "Well, not so soon anyway. And not like this. I thought she'd poison my food or something."

The pyre flickered in the air current, their shadows dancing along the dirt floor, overlapping at times. She observed the light show, the crackling of the fire a welcome accompaniment. She entertained the idea of them actually escaping the swamp, but even then the odds were not in her favor. Regina would still have the upper hand; her family would still be in jeopardy.

"What if I can't do it?" The questioned was posed more to herself than him, her insecurities rising to the top.

Hook lifted himself, sensing the princess' somberness. He acknowledged that this was a unique thing for Emma: to openly admit her fears and uncertainty. Her currency was her fierce temperament and unyielding character, and right now she felt bankrupt.

The pirate added more wood to the fire, the lumber clapping as it struck the other pieces. "You will," he confirmed nonchalantly. "We'll get out of here, lass, and we will rescue your son."

Emma was taken aback by his assertion. He wasn't dismissive of her worries, just dauntless in her resilience.

"_We_?" Their agreement had never stipulated that Hook would stay by her side long enough to help her with Henry.

"Yes," he said plainly, arms stretching to cradle his head as he leaned back. "We're in this together, you and I. Best get used to it." _I gave you my word, _was his unspoken vow.

She stared at him in wonderment, dumbfounded by his ardor. At his own admittance, Hook was an opportunist, swearing temporary allegiance to whomever could meet his needs. The man's loyalty was hard to earn, but once it was, she was learning, it was steadfast.

"You can take first shift," he suggested sluggishly, stifling back a yawn. The pirate reclined further downward, only his head propped up as he shut his eyes. How he could sleep under these conditions was a mystery to her.

She kept watch for the first half of the night, hearing the Captain snore every so often. He seemed so different to her now. Everything had changed in the course of a day.

.

* * *

.**  
**

At the earliest signs of dawn, Hook and Emma departed their campsite. The marsh was almost beautiful in the morning, a thin mist saturating the atmosphere. The sunlight illuminated the canopy, fractured light creating an enchanting effect. The wetland looked much like it did when they had entered it the day before, the surroundings plush and crowded with plant life. It gave Emma hope.

"Look!" she shouted, touching Hook's shoulder as she took a few steps ahead. Since their last challenge, the pair never strayed too far from one another. It was a survival instinct, they reasoned, but neither could deny that the closeness was comforting.

In the distance, Hook saw indications of drier land and sparse territory. The humidity seemed to evaporate as they kept going, the forest becoming less dense. Before they knew it, they had completely emanated from the Fire Swamp, leaving the nightmare behind them.

Taking in the fresh air, Emma's attitude was altered. The landscape was vastly changed, the nearby shrubs vibrant compared to the grayish palette of the everglade. The trees were leaner, branches no longer animated and intrusive. Leaves were scattered along the ground, creating a carpet just for them as a reward for their harrowing journey.

Emma could distinguish the scenery and felt a swell of happiness. She was back in the queen's kingdom. They were almost there.

Hook had yet to see the princess so spirited. Her steps were lighter, eyes glued to the heavens as she took everything in. This was the woman he had hoped to find back on the beanstalk. Seeing her like this now, however, meant more to him; he had seen the transformation and a part of him rejoiced at her openness.

For a brief period, the pirate forgot about his quest for vengeance, existing only in the present. He picked at the remnants of sand in his ear, watching Emma as she loosely braided her unkempt hair. The gossip was no exaggeration. She was a rare beauty indeed.

Emma reached for the sword that was still fashioned to her person. She offered the blade back to its owner—or at least she assumed it originally belonged to him—and gave Hook a faint smile.

"I don't think I'll be needing this anymore," she said, throwing it for him to catch. Hook sheathed the steel once more, the weight grounding him.

If she listened closely, Emma could hear waves gently crashing against the land. Beyond them was an isolated beach. She thought of the ocean—calm one minute and frenzied the next—and was immediately reminded of the Captain. "What is it like," she asked casually. "Living a life at sea?"

"It's unlike anything else," he breathed, coming to rest at her side. "Absolute freedom, camaraderie, adventure." He glanced at the princess, their hands barely touching. "You'd make a hell of a pirate."

Emma scoffed inelegantly. "Yeah, I'm sure," she replied sarcastically. "Just as along as I don't have to wear a corset." She drew from her limited references of the pirate culture and pictured herself with an eyepatch and oversized hat. Emma realized that she had handed the innuendo to Hook on a silver platter. But he didn't take it; he just kept looking at her.

"As you wish," he said, more tenderly than he had before.

They were interrupted by a barrage of neighing, a parade of stallions galloping towards them. At the front of the herd was Cora, her purple embroidered gown cascading off her steed. Emma and Hook turned, their figures in a defensive stance. She scanned the area rapidly, finding no escape route they could take.

"Surrender."

"You mean you wish to surrender to me?" Hook countered, foot crossing over Emma's legs to stand before her. "Very well, I accept."

"I give you full marks for bravery," said Cora, mildly amused. "Don't make a fool of yourself."

"Ah, but I'd love to know how you'd capture us." Hook lowered his pitch, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze scoured the length of her. "We know the secrets of the Fire Swamp and we could live there quite happily."

Emma writhed behind him, nose flaring as she glared at the wicked witch. She motioned to grab the dagger from her boot, but as she did so, one of the queen's men treaded closer. He wordlessly warned her to remain still.

"So whenever you feel like dying," Hook finished. "Feel free to visit."

"By order of Queen Regina," she boomed, her voice carrying far into the woods. "Surrender!"

"It will not happen!" he shouted back, arm extended in a protective manner in front of Emma.

She was touched, and startled by his willingness to defend her. Handing her over would complete their arrangement. Hook would get closer to fulfilling his ultimate goal; there was no legitimate cause for him to put himself in harm's way, especially not for her. Emma had thought the pirate didn't care about anyone but himself. Perhaps, she mused, he just needed reminding that he could.

"Hand over the princess," Cora roared, the dispute with the Captain escalating.

"Death first!"

Emma could see the soldiers advancing, starting a formation that trapped them. One soldier held out a crossbow, ready to shoot. More men were hidden among the trees, arrows and spears pointed at Hook. His demise was imminent if she didn't intercede.

_It's what a savior does_, she thought again. _Make sacrifices_.

"Will you promise not to hurt him?" she yelled suddenly. Hook whirled to face her, his expression perplexed. Emma marched forward, gently pushing Hook to the side to give her room. "If we surrender, and I return with you," Emma proposed, her tone husky and commanding. "Will you promise not to hurt this man?"

Cora was confused for a moment, her lips quirking upward as recognition swept across her face. _Oh this is too good_, she laughed. _The princess has fallen in love._

"You have my word." Cora flicked her wrist, signaling for the soldiers to retreat. Hook noticed the concealed men that had been surrounding them as they made their presences known. Then it hit him: Emma had saved his life.

"He's the captain of the Jolly Roger," Emma supplied, the pirate's legend bestowing the specifics. "Swear you'll return him to his ship."

"I swear," Cora repeated. "It will be done."

Emma stared deep into Cora's eyes, attempting to detect any sign of dishonesty. But her judgement was clouded by her emotional investment. She cared too much about Hook to think clearly. She had no choice but to confide in the queen's mother.

Hook was dazed into silence. They exchanged glances, Emma on the cusp of telling him something. Before she could speak, she was escorted away by one of the armored men. He caught a glimpse of her before most of the soldiers rode off, their horses kicking up dirt in their wake.

"Come, _Captain,_" Cora taunted. "We must get you to your ship."

Hook distrusted the older woman, knowing full well she had no intention of releasing him. He played along, adept at maneuvering through delicate situations. "While I'd love to rejoin my crew, there is some business I have with her majesty," he said, sounding as though he was on the verge of striking a deal. "So, if you'd be so kind as to arrange transport for the journey, I'd be more than happy to wait."

"Of course," she sang, gesturing for a crew of men to dismount.

They grabbed the pirate, his arms ensnared by their tight grips. The tallest man clubbed Hook hard across the skull. Hook started to fall, blacking out before hitting the ground.

"Take him to the Pit of Despair," Cora ordered. "The queen will know what to do with him."

.

.


	7. Pit of Despair

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Chapter Seven: Pit of Despair

.

Hook awoke to the sound of water steadily dripping, the droplets echoing as they plopped against the smooth rock. Still groggy from the blow to the head, the pirate shivered in the cold and dank place. He was underground, in a windowless cellar lit only by flickering torches. A number of images flashed before him as he regained consciousness: horrifying vines and lightning sand, a tranquil beach, an elderly woman on horseback with gloved hands and red lips, Emma's form receding further along the horizon.

Disorientated, the Captain tried to stand but felt heavy chains tug at his arms and legs. A burlap sack covered his head, the itchy fabric condensing into his open mouth. He grunted in confusion as he struggled to free himself, the metal links clanking loudly. He was at the center of a large slab of stone, he could feel, his torso and neck also restrained.

He stilled upon hearing footsteps descend a set of stairs he couldn't see. He took a mental note of where they were located, for when the time came for him to break away.

There were two pairs of feet that clicked along the cobblestone, almost perfectly in unison. Hook pictured two twins coming towards him, ardent to bestow their punishment.

"I've spent enough time below deck to not be afraid of the dark," the pirate stated, his words muffled by the bag. "So if this is your idea of torture, well," he chuckled arrogantly, "you're just going to have to try a little harder."

In a quick motion, the sack was removed, the Captain's hair disheveled and sticking up. He heaved angrily, the weak lighting managing to irritate his eyes.

As he focused his vision, Hook was able to make out the henchmen. Two, just as he had assumed; one man and one woman. The man had pale skin, his widow's peak considerably pronounced. His thinning hair was a dull auburn shade, the puffing of his eyelids making him appear years older. The woman—a slender, athletic type—was darker skinned, her straight black hair falling just beyond her shoulders.

They said nothing as they inspected the chains that bound him, tightening any loose straps and buckles. Hook could discern they were holding something back, perhaps a monologue just aching to be recited. He wondered if a lengthy speech was their special form of torment.

"Where am I?" Hook demanded, voice strained by the thick belt that wrapped around his neck.

"The Pit of Despair," the man whispered, clearing his throat. "Tamara, hand me some water," he requested quietly. The woman nodded and walked across the space, out of Hook's sight.

The pirate felt a stinging sensation against his skin, one of his wounds tingling with sensitivity. He only grit his teeth and raised his head as far as he could. The man was tending to his injuries, a damp cloth haphazardly patting against the Captain's leg. Hook wrestled against the restraints, wincing as his cuts were bandaged.

"Don't even think of trying to escape," said Tamara, handing a drink to her partner. "The chains are far too thick," she said proudly.

"And don't dream of being rescued either," the man added. His tone had a childlike accent; there was no heaviness to him, like a boy borrowing an adult's form. "The only way in is secret. And only the Queen and her mother—and us, of course—know how to get in and out."

"Then I'm here until I die?"

"Til they kill you, yes."

The man put away the cleaning kit, the bowl of water clashing against a multitude of tools on the table beside him. Hook imagined the countless souls who had occupied the platform in the past, steeling himself for whatever they would unleash upon him.

"Then why bother curing me?"

"The queen always insists on everyone being healthy before they're broken," the woman replied sinfully, clearly enjoying their game. "Isn't that right, Greg?" Her companion laughed, joining her as they hovered over their captive.

"So it's to be torture," Hook mumbled to himself, his throat dry. "I can cope with torture," he said more confidently, chin extended outwardly in defiance.

"I doubt that." A third person entered the cellar, her inflection unforgettable. Cora glided over to the group, dress dragging along the ground. She shooed Greg and Tamara away as she approached the pirate.

"You survived the Fire Swamp, so you must be very brave," she continued, gingerly removing her velvet gloves one finger at a time. "But nobody withstands _The Machine_."

Cora grabbed Hook's face and tilted it to the right, showing him the contraption in question. It was an enormous thing, comprised solely of metallic wheels and screws and levers. The device appeared to have a life of it's own, functioning by itself as it came alive under her touch.

Greg and Tamara manually moved the boulder that Hook rested on, the rusted trolley squeaking sharply as he was inched closer to The Machine until the many wires attached to it were within reach.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Cora hummed, as the two assistants placed suction cups onto the pirate's body. They removed his vest and shirt, as well as any jewelry that adorned his person. "It took me half a lifetime to invent it. I'm sure you've discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain."

She enunciated each word as she meticulously removed one final item from her prisoner. With a snap, his signature hook was taken from him, placed among the implements on the adjacent table.

"My dear Captain, it seems you've been on quite an adventure." Seeing the pirate suffer—witnessing any person at her complete mercy—gave Cora a pleasure she couldn't quite categorize. It was the source of her power: to think unpleasant thoughts, delighting in fantasies of causing your enemy misery. Just like her master had taught her.

"Oh, are you going to kill me now?" he goaded, feeling vulnerable without his hook. "Go ahead. Try."

Forcefully placing a hand on each of his cheeks, she made him look at her directly, her face upside down. Her actions effectively ceased his struggling.

"Your pretty face buys you a lot," she said firmly. "But not your freedom. You chose her and the consequences of that decision. And this"—Cora gestured toward the disturbing contraption—"is only the beginning."

At Cora's instruction, Greg pushed against a giant dial at the side of The Machine, its numbers ranging from a low 1 to a high of 50.

"This being our first try, I'll use the lowest setting."

Tamara turned the dial to 1, unaware of Cora's magic animating The Machine with bolts of electricity, the device amplifying her power. The suction cups were on Hook's head, his temple, his heart, his hands and feet. But his expression did not betray his fear.

Without warning, currents of energized matter coursed through him, his muscles atrophying and joints stiffening. He produced an appalling sound, unable to contain the distress he was experiencing. After a few moments, Greg turned off The Machine, the vibration of Hook's incessant gasping filling the room.

"As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old," Cora explained, taking a seat in the distance while her servants handled the large gadget. "Except instead of sucking water, I'm sucking life. I've just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five," she said cheerfully, excited at the prospect.

Hook laid there in an anguish so deep it was dizzying. Helpless, streams of tears ran from his eyes as he tried to keep his face neutral. He was unsuccessful.

.

* * *

.**  
**

The dining hall of a small tavern on the edge of the forest bustled with its many guests. The breakfast offered was paltry: starched eggs and stale bread with a complementary jug of ale. Snow and Charming devoured their meals nonetheless, thankful for any sort of food after nearly an entire day of wandering through the woods.

The inn was easy to find, residing in a tiny town with few inhabitants. The queen's soldiers had recently searched the area when they had arrived; they would not return for at least another night.

The former royals had discarded their expensive attire, trading in their wardrobe for more modest clothes. In the safety of their room, Snow had chopped off her long dark hair, instead sporting a pixie style that made wearing her hooded cloak more manageable. Her husband let his blond stubble grow out, a greased cap angled over his forehead.

Snow White was grateful for their wrinkles and sagging skin. The people remembered a youthful princess and vernal knight, not the aged versions of their previous selves. It was the image of her daughter that was now seared into the citizens' minds, her name never unspoken for more than an hour.

While their physical appearances were concealed, their behavioral habits were harder to mask. The way they held their utensils, their postures while sitting at the crooked wooden bench, the manner in which they wiped their mouths after taking modest bites of food.

Their demeanor went mostly unnoticed with the exception of a warrior woman who sat at the bar, watching the couple intently. No longer decked out in the cumbersome armor, Mulan was fitted with thinner plates at her shoulders, elbow, waist and thighs. Still a formidable presentation, but one that allowed her more mobility.

Her involvement in the princess' kidnapping weighed heavily on Mulan, her code of honor no longer as flexible as it had been when she agreed to Cora's terms. Her desperation had clouded her judgement, but she knew now that the only path to free Philip and Aurora was the righteous one.

Seeking to make amends, Mulan had regarded the king and queen. Their disguises were elaborate, she had to admit. But from what she remembered from the tales of their bravery, remaining idle while their child was missing was only a temporary tactic.

Casually, Mulan approached them, taking a vacant spot across from their places at the table. She didn't look at them or speak right away; Mulan knew enough to not draw attention to them. She noticed how they shied away from her presence, grasping at each other while staying alert.

"You've traveled a long way," she spoke finally, gaze diverted. Snow adjusted her hood to get a better look at the woman in front of them. "I can only imagine what you've been through," Mulan continued vaguely. "And for that, I am sorry."

David took a swig of his drink, intrigued by the refined tone of their visitor.

"Not from here, either?" he asked, taking up the conversation. "We're just passing through."

"I don't mean to bother you," Mulan responded, sounding apologetic. Her timbre puzzled them. "It must be a terrible thing, to lose a child."

At that, David leaned in menacingly across the counter, his wife frozen in surprise. While he was happy to violently solicit an explanation, Snow's reaction was more docile. The woman before her was not imposing, but rather remorseful. She was no threat.

"What do you know about our daughter?" she inquired strongly, palm resting on her husband's arm.

"That she was kidnapped yesterday—"

"Everyone knows that," David intruded, jaw clenched tightly. "Tell us something we can use, or get out of our sights."

"That the queen ordered it," Mulan offered quickly, knowing that Snow could not hold him off for long. "That she hired two people to take your daughter far away from the kingdom to await further instruction." Snow and Charming relaxed into their seats, careful not to make a scene in the crowded saloon. Mulan inhaled deeply before making her confession. "And that I was one of those two people."

David's hand formed a fist which dug into the wood surface. "Where is she?" he let out solidly.

"I don't know," Mulan admitted sadly, shame visible on her features. "But I know the last person who was with her: a man dressed all in black, with a hook for a hand."

.

* * *

.**  
**

In an underpass deep beneath the castle grounds, Emma was escorted into the palace. The bleary tunnel was narrow, the ceiling hanging low and holes in the brick serving as the only source for fresh air. She could see nothing of the outside, the dreary mine lit up by hanging candles from above, most of them striking her skull as she was forced forward.

Her hands were untied, but Emma felt like a hostage all the same.

The whole process seemed unnecessarily secretive to Emma. The queen had met her as the soldiers neared the palace, and had assured her the usage of the underground passage was for her own safety; protection against potentially dangerous mobs. She hadn't believed Regina for a second. Even now, the Evil Queen was still scheming away.

When they arrived at a foyer within the actual estate, Emma felt a shortly lived sense of relief to be in a more open space. At the entrance, Regina awaited her and the accompanying soldiers. Emma observed that the queen had changed her outfit: she wore a cumbrous gown with a collar made entirely of violet feathers, her cleavage pushed up and out.

"Thank you, gentlemen," she greeted. "And welcome back, princess."

Emma rolled her eyes at her majesty's countenance, all propriety and manipulation. "What are you playing at, Regina?"

The soldiers were startled by her informality towards the queen, but Regina only chuckled in reply. The temptation to cast a spell to silence the golden-haired troublemaker was great, but she abided by her only rule: never reveal your magic unless the circumstances required it.

"Don't underestimate me," she murmured into Emma's ear. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

The Evil Queen ordered her men to take Emma up to the tallest tower in the estate, professing that only the best view would do for their beloved princess. Emma fought against the guards' attempts to take hold of her. She refused to be locked away while her family's well-being was still uncertain.

"Where's Henry?" Emma implored before ascending the cramped stairway.

"He's perfectly content," Regina barbed. "He loves it here." While Emma doubted Henry's enthusiasm at having such limited company, she was glad to hear of his condition, however exaggerated Regina's claim may have been. At least he hadn't been tormented by her absence. He was a strong kid.

"And my parents?"

"You've haven't heard?" the queen taunted. "They're gone."

"I don't believe you. What have you done—"

"They left," she interrupted. "They returned to their little village. Your mother and father wanted a simple life, one of anonymity. They preferred to mourn your disappearance in private," she disclosed straightforwardly. Regina could see the skepticism in Emma's eyes slowly peeling away. "They were very receptive to the idea that you were most likely dead, which was odd but who am I to question them?"

"You're lying," said Emma, less assuredly than before.

"I, on the other hand, never gave up the search. And now here you are, safe and sound," Regina boasted, the soldiers around her nervously grunting in praise. She turned to leave the alcove, but Emma called out to get her attention.

"And Hook?" she asked, pallid but unwavering.

"Your Captain has been returned to his vessel," the queen attested exasperatedly. "I can assure you he was handsomely rewarded for his efforts."

Regina grinned widely at Emma's disheartened reaction. But the princess was not so readily convinced. Her parents wouldn't abandon her, she repeated in her mind; their absence from the castle had an alternate explanation. As for Hook, Emma knew he hadn't departed the shores of the Enchanted Forest; his quest for vengeance could not be sated with monetary compensation.

Then she recalled the way he shouted at the queen's mother, how he had fought to keep her from the Evil Queen's clutches...

As Regina left the antechamber, her men prodded at Emma into submission as they began their climb up the stairs, towards the tower.

.

* * *

.**  
**

The queen made her way to the main hall of the palace, the high arched ceiling a refreshing adjustment to the burrows below. When she neared the double doors, she heard faint tapping against the marble floors. Henry tumbled down the corridor, his short legs nimbly sprinting along as he approached.

Out of breath, Henry stood before her, teeth exposed in a broad smile. "Is she here?" he queried eagerly. "Have you found my mom?"

The use of the title hurt Regina, as she hoped one day he would think of her as a mother. There was nothing she wouldn't give the little boy. Since his grandparents' desertion, she had showered him with gifts and lessons and sweets. She rejoiced at seeing him this way, and responded to him with equal excitement.

"No, sweetie. But we're making excellent progress."

Henry's grin faded, brows furrowed in misunderstanding. "But... all those soldiers. They were with someone."

Regina bent down to his height, pushing strands of chestnut hair from his forehead. "There was no one with them, dear. They were just coming back to report to me." Henry pulled away as she stroked his head, his soft features warping in disappointment.

He had accepted the queen's story of how Snow White and Prince Charming had gone off on their own to look for Emma. It was certainly like them to take matters into their own hands. Henry had been startled that they hadn't even said goodbye, but his investigative mind was suppressed by Regina's adamancy.

Now, however, the Evil Queen's words held little weight for him. In her openness, she revealed much of her character to him, and now more than ever he sensed she was being untruthful.

"Yes, there was," he challenged. She rose to her feet, aggrieved by his tone. "My mom _is _here, isn't she?" Regina's silence gave him his answer. "Why are you hiding her?"

"Henry, I—"

"Please," he begged, "I want to see my mom."

"That won't be possible," she replied firmly, taking on the role of strict parent. His disrespectful attitude could not be tolerated without a proper scolding. "Now go to your room. And consider your riding lesson cancelled for this afternoon."

"You can't do this," Henry said, practically yelling. His eyes pleaded with her to reconsider, to allow him the reunion with his mother. She looked away from him to maintain her composure. "_Why are you doing this?_"

"I don't have any other choice," she replied candidly, her delivery level but gentle. Regina stared at him, choosing to be transparent. "As long as there are other people in our lives, you can never fully be mine. I love you."

"What you're doing isn't love," he corrected emphatically. "You sent away my grandparents, and you're keeping my mom locked up. You're a villain!"

His voice bounced against the walls, ringing out in the spacious vestibule.

"They're the villains," she proclaimed, water accumulating in her eyes.

"How can I ever love anyone who would do such horrible things?"

Henry's declaration stung her and left her speechless. He stayed there, defiant and riled up as he awaited her next move. Regina merely produced something from under her sleeve: a piece of old parchment with script scribbled in ink.

"Everything will be alright, dear," she soothed, walking closer to him. Henry didn't budge. "You won't remember a thing." The Evil Queen let out a long breath, blowing onto the paper. The calligraphy lifted into the air, the particles of black sweeping over Henry's face. His gaze mellowed, head swaying in a trance.

After a minute, Henry greeted Regina once more, his memory of their initial encounter wiped clean.

"It's good to see you, sweetie. Come on," she said, placing her hand on Henry's back as he followed her through the exit. "It's time for your lesson."

.

* * *

.**  
**

The dining room was nearly empty, only the occasional blacksmith or maid walking through the tavern's main floor. Mulan provided every necessary detail of her travels with Claude and her meetings with the queen. Still in their bulky attire, Snow and David motioned to leave the lounge, their acquired belongings strapped securely to their bodies.

At the tavern's entryway, they decide to part ways. Snow expressed her gratitude to Mulan, embracing her briefly before they went on their way.

"Good luck," Mulan said, nodding appreciatively to them.

"You too," Snow responded. Before turning to leave, she returned to Mulan's side, requesting that David give her a moment. "Wait!"

The warrior came about face, watching at Snow rushed towards her.

"I know of someone who might be able to help you," she explained. "I encountered a fairy when I was a girl who has been my friend for many years. She lives in the forest. All you have to do is summon her by wishing on the blue star."

Mulan shook her head to express her comprehension. She was moved by Snow's kindness, her benevolent reputation based in truth. She could think of only way way to repay her. "Take it." Mulan unsheathed her sword, presenting it to the rightful queen.

"No, I couldn't."

"It's the strongest blade in all the realms," she stated soundly. "And it deflects magic."

Snow was taken aback the gesture, taking hold of the steel. While not her preferred weapon for combat, she knew David could make good use of it. "Thank you."

With that, Mulan trekked into the wilderness, no longer burdened by her misdeeds. Snow ran back to her husband, in the opposite direction, in search of the mythical beanstalk her little girl had climbed.

Moments later, a man with fluffed brown hair emerged from the tavern, satchel fastened loosely to him. Neal waited before heading off after the couple, judging the appropriate distance needed to go unnoticed as he followed them.

.

* * *

.**  
**

The Machine buzzed in the cold dungeon, at times overpowering the moans of discomfort emanating from the bound pirate. His exposed chest bore the marks of his torture, fresh scratches from the many interrogations Tamara insisted on merged with the red rings caused by the suction cups.

In his stunned state, Hook could hardly make out her statements. He gathered, ultimately, that the woman had a deeply seeded hatred for magic and its partitioners, an opinion her companion shared. Ironic, he thought, that they served under a woman who had nearly perfected the practice. The fools were unaware of this fact, surely, and had been told he was affiliated with their kind. Their zeal for torment had been put into context.

Nothing could be further from the truth, he had wanted to scream. Magic had robbed him of much. He might have even aligned himself with their cause had they not been lacerating him mercilessly for what felt like days.

_You don't even know who you're working for._

The dial on the life-size contraption had been moved up to 2, the transition excruciating. Hook's cries were such that Cora herself was growing tired of his complaints, and left Greg and Tamara to handle him until further notice.

A new wave of electricity filtered through the Captain, then The Machine was turned off momentarily. Panting severely, Hook weakly lifted his arms in a pathetic attempt to free himself.

Greg and Tamara paused to clean off their instruments, as they did routinely between shock treatments. They seemed as one in their movements and discussions, completing one another's sentences in between kisses. It annoyed Hook to no end.

Suddenly, the gate to the pit crashed against the rock wall, bursting open with great force. Loud stomping reverberated through the basement as the Evil Queen cascaded down the winding staircase.

Her skirts flew out at her sides as she strode with purpose to the center of the cellar, stopping once she reached the stone stab where Hook resided.

"_You_," she snarled, hands planted on either side of his head. "Leave us!" she commanded, but the man and woman did not comply.

"But, your highness—"

"Now!"

Without another word, Greg and Tamara vacated the Pit of Despair, waiting just beyond the vault's entrance as they listened in on the queen's tirade.

"You've ruined everything," Regina accused, moving objects across the room with just the flick of her wrist, thoughts of Henry's rejection fueling her magic. Her face was only inches away from the pirates, her breath hot against his cool skin.

Hook could only groan in return, his vocal cords exhausted from hours of use. He jostled in place, giving the illusion that the restraints were protecting the queen from his own wrath.

"You truly love each other," she speculated, noticing how even such a remote reference to the princess made the Captain's blood boil. "You might have been truly happy. And so your suffering will be all the greater for it."

Regina whirled around, hand firmly on The Machine's longest lever. She laughed wickedly before thrusting the lifter to the very top, the dial reading 50.

Hook had never felt such pain, the agony growing and growing as the metal device roared back to life, sparks flying off of it like fireworks. He howled in his immense suffering, the surrounding woodland filled with his whaling shrieks.

After an eternity of anguish, The Machine shut off, smoke escaping from the combusted apparatus.

Laying limp on the platform, the queen studied her prisoner's languid form. The straps held his head upright; upon removing the leather strip, it slumped to the side. Regina placed a finger under his nostrils, detecting no signs of life from the Captain.

"My work here is done," she huffed victoriously, fixing the fit of her gown and position of her hairpiece. The pirate was dead. Now only Emma remained.

.

.


	8. Miracle Man

.

Chapter Eight: Miracle Man

.

The forest was eerily quiet as Snow and Charming treaded along, the dried leaves crunching beneath their measured steps. It had become second-nature for them to always be on the alert, hyper aware of their surroundings. The Evil Queen had eyes everywhere, Snow knew, and they would never be safe until her demise.

The mythical beanstalk Mulan had mentioned was harder to find than they had anticipated. She had travelled there by boat, she had told them, then trekked through even more wilderness to arrive at the gargantuan plant. They'd have to cross into another kingdom, they both surmised; a long journey was ahead.

David gripped the borrowed sword firmly, never allowing it to slacken. His wife was fashioned with her preferred weapon of choice: a bow and arrow, taken from a shop within the small town they had just departed from. She was more relaxed, trusting her reflexes if the situation required them to fight.

Even if they made it to their destination, finding the Man in Black would be an adventure all on its own. David couldn't help but assume the worst: that the hook-handed pirate had make countless attempts to harm his daughter. He reminisced on the early mornings when he'd teach Emma how to handle a sword or throw a punch. _Keep both feet on the ground_, he had instructed.

Without warning, a bellowing howl was heard. Both on edge, they were more curious than frightened. The cry was subdued by the distance between them and its source, but the unpleasant shriek was piercing all the same.

"That is the sound of ultimate suffering," Snow whispered, recalling the way her heart made that same sound when her mother and father had passed away; no, they had been taken from her. And now Regina threatened to take another member of her family.

"Where is it coming from?" David wondered, his free hand resting on his hip as he scanned the forest for the voice's origin.

"This way," Snow decided, marching in a seemingly random direction. After years spent hiding in the woods from the Evil Queen's wrath, David knew better than to question her instincts.

After several minutes of walking, the pair reached a grove of trees that took on a haunting quality. They sparkled at certain angles, their bark and leaves a slightly different hue than all the rest. Snow paused, her husband following suit, waiting for the scenery to reveal something.

Then, it did.

The vines from one of the larger tree trunks came to life, unraveling to reveal a crudely shaped door carved from wood. A man appeared through it, his arms filled with dingy tools and dirty rags. Preoccupied with the materials in his possession, he failed to observe the couple in time to evade the sword at the ready to strike, and the tightly pulled arrow pointed directly at him.

"Don't. Move," David commanded, the man petrified into place.

Snow took in his face, puffy eyes and receding hairline. He looked familiar to her. "Do I know you?" she asked rigidly. The man only shook his head in response. After a moment of inspection, it dawned on her that this man—Greg, she remembered now—would on occasion be seen handling business with the queen.

"You work for the queen," Snow interrogated, raising her bow even higher.

At that, Greg sprang into a sprint, all his held items tumbling to the ground. Snow released an arrow that grazed his calve, but he kept on running, limping away with great speed. "Hey!" David threw down his sword as he bolted after the man.

Seeing them disappear into the woodland, Snow picked up the discarded steel and headed into the tree's entranceway. She was struck by the frigidness of the space as she descended the staircase. Footsteps could be heard below, making Snow slow down her pace, ears keenly attentive. Peaking down from above, Snow could see a woman casually walking about the cellar, carrying instruments from one point to another.

At the center of the basement was a dark-haired man, passed out and restrained by a multitude of straps. _He's the one we heard_, Snow suspected, desperately wanting to know why Regina's henchmen were torturing the poor soul.

"Stop right there," Snow called out, Mulan's sword extended outward. She gradually made her way to the base level of the dungeon. Tamara's hands were in the air mockingly, her expression smug.

"Or you'll what?"

"Trust me," she warned. "You don't want to find out." Snow stared her down, the tip of the blade creeping closer to the woman. She diverted her eyes for a second to glance at the prisoner. From the quick look, Snow could see the man was missing a hand, the eroded skin evidencing the wound was from years prior. _This could be the man we've been looking for._

Tamara thrust a tray at Snow, the objects atop it jostling loudly before crashing to the floor, Snow's foot trapped underneath it. Tamara made for the stairs but was halted by a hand on her ankle, tripping her.

Snow untangled herself from the mess of tools, wrestling with Tamara as the woman was pinned down. She struggled against the former queen but was ineffective. With a solid punch, Tamara was knocked unconscious.

As Snow got back on her feet, she could hear someone running down the steps. David, out of breath, dashed across the space to where his wife was standing. "You ok?" he asked, seeing her clothes askew and a mess surrounding her.

"Yeah," she answered, eyes fixed to the man on the stone slab. "Which is more than I can say for him."

She lifted his handless arm, finding it limp and heavy. She surveyed the area, taking in the details of the dank torture chamber. While David inspected a large machine off to the side, Snow took a closer look at the pile of metallic instruments, and the lesions on the man's body. The markings on his torso didn't match the scarring on his left arm's stub.

"A man with a hook for a hand," she muttered, noting the color of the man's pants, spying a ripped onyx shirt that was thrown against a nearby chair. "Who dressed all in black."

Her eyes met with David's, confirming that this was the man who was last seen with Emma. Any excitement they felt at their success was quelled at the realization that the Man in Black wasn't breathing. The sight of his apparently lifeless form eradicated their hopes of finding their daughter.

"We've failed." Her shoulders sagged, hands pressed against the rock platform.

"No," David replied, suddenly full of energy. "We're not giving up." He cupped Snow's cheeks, turning her head to face him. "I know someone who can help."

"He's dead, David," she protested, voice shaky. "Who can—"

Snow stopped herself as she anticipated his response. There was only one person powerful enough to counteract whatever heinous things were done at Regina's hand, a man with centuries of history of casting spells and making deals.

"Rumplestiltskin."

.

* * *

.**  
**

Many miles from the Pit of Despair, Snow and Charming approached a hovel tucked away among the dense foliage of the thicket. The sun was beginning to set, making the home of the notorious Dark One practically invisible. The hutch was a profound contrast to Rumplestiltskin's previous home, an isolated palace of exorbitant size.

They wheeled the Man in Black behind them, always careful not to disrupt his corpse-like body. "Do you have any money?" David asked before reaching the shack's entrance.

"I have a little," she said, pulling on the wheelbarrow that carried their companion.

"Let's hope it's enough to buy a miracle." Taking in a deep breath, David looked to his wife for a boost of confidence before pounding against the door. When he received no answer, he knocked a second time with greater force.

From inside the cabin, an impish voice could be heard. Snow squeezed her husband's hand, hopeful that the Dark One could help them. For a price, of course, one they would be more than willing to pay if it led them to Emma.

"Go away!" the voice inside shouted. But David would not be deterred, not when they've come this far. He struck the door again in quick motions, shaking the door-frame.

"Open up! You know who I am," he announced.

A small window in the door unlocked, revealing the formerly scaly-skinned sorcerer through the compressed rectangular gap. He looked like an ordinary man, so unlike the trickster they remembered. Rumple recognized them, David could detect, but still regarded them suspiciously.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, your highness?" he asked, his tone smooth and subdued, only hints of his old accent peaking through.

"We need a miracle," was all the information Snow supplied. She was desperate, but knew better than to reveal everything to a man who made a life by outmaneuvering those he encountered.

"I'm retired," Rumple countered, making to shut the window. David stuck out his hand, blocking it from closing.

"Enough," he growled, his face leaning close to the door. "This is important. Do you really think we'd come out of hiding for something that would be a waste of your time?"

The Dark One's interest was sparked, arching his neck to get a better view of the outside. He could see nothing through the darkness, his powers no longer with him.

"Come in." Rumple unlocked the door, stepping aside in an exaggerated fashion to let them into his home. At his side was a woman of unique beauty. She had brown hair and a round face with vibrant blue eyes. She was introduced as his wife, Belle.

The space was cramped to say the least, cluttered with objects that had been traded and tricked away. Items that were once displayed proudly upon pedestals were now stacked on top of each other, uneven columns scattered throughout. The menacingly tall windows of the castle he had inhabited long ago were replaced with tiny framed slits along the walls.

Hurrying inside, David took hold on the wheelbarrow as he followed Snow into the shed. The Man in Black's entire front was covered by a wool cloak, a protective measure to keep the man unscathed from their travels, his shirt returned to him as well. Their large cargo intrigued Rumplestiltskin, insisting that they place whatever they brought with them onto a bench by the fireplace.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Belle asked, unimpressed by their curtness.

"Old friends," Rumplestiltskin answered gently, his manner transforming when addressing his younger bride.

"We're hardly friends," David amended. He disliked doing business with the Dark One and was too exhausted to feign courtesy by hiding his low opinion of the man.

With considerable effort, Snow and David lifted the Man in Black up and onto the table, with no offers of assistance from the wizard. Arms folded over his stomach, Rumple inspected the cloak and the guessed at the contents underneath.

"Let's have a look," he said coolly, watching at David removed the cape.

Rumplestiltskin's reaction was severe, his nails digging into his flesh while his teeth crunched together. Belle knew his reasons for becoming so furious, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He said nothing, only fumed silently with enlarged eyes and obvious rage. His lip twitched as he walked nearer to the man, who was instantly identified as Killian Jones, also known as Captain Hook.

"Can you revive him?" David questioned, wary of the Dark One's mood but baffled by it's origin.

"Absolutely not," he let out, each syllable pronounced with chilling certainty. He peered at Hook, pleased to see the pirate so disheveled and on the brink of death. He deserved his fate, Rumple thought, his only regret being that it wasn't him who had inflicted the pain.

"Can't, or won't," Snow bit out, unconcerned with whatever history Rumple had with the Man in Black.

"Pick one," he retorted, stepping away from the group.

"But you _can_ help us?" David asked anxiously as he followed Rumple's movements. "He can be brought back to life?"

"I can't bring back the dead, even when I had my magic," Rumple snarled, on the verge of yelling. The fact that the Dark One was no longer as powerful as he once was trouble Charming; he had depended on the wizard's skills. "In your case, this _savage_ is only mostly dead," he finished.

"What does that mean?"

"There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead," he explained matter-of-factly, using his hands to illustrate his meaning. "Mostly dead is slightly alive."

"So then make him fully alive," Snow barked, panic evident in her pitch.

"No," Rumplestiltskin stated, his word final. "Not even you could convince me otherwise."

"How about me?" The front door spun open again, audibly hitting the wall behind it. Everyone turned to the disturbance, seeing a hooded middle-aged man standing straight up with his chest puffed up.

He removed the hood, running his fingers nervously through his frizzed hair. Rumplestiltskin stumbled backward, hand over his heart at the surprise of seeing his son in his house. _My boy_, he thought, almost mouthing his reflections._ Baelfire_.

"Son."

"Papa," Neal replied hoarsely, hesitant in his stance but not moving from his spot.

"You came back to me," he mumbled, eyes wide. He inched closer to Neal tentatively, Belle patting him on the back in encouragement.

"No," he corrected firmly. "I came to help find Emma."

Snow and Charming locked eyes in confusion. They estimated that the man was a few years older than Emma and something about him seemed familiar; had they encountered him before? Rumplestiltskin and Neal remained in an awkward silence until the couple intervened.

"How do you know my daughter?" David inquired defensively, putting himself between the estranged father and son. "Well?"

"We—" Neal began, never looking away from Rumple. "We were friends. I used to live in the village she grew up in." David was unsatisfied with the response, detecting there was more to their relationship than mere acquaintance.

"The tavern," Snow added. "You were there this morning, weren't you."

"Yeah." Neal cleared his throat and stared at his feet. This wasn't how thought of meeting Emma's parents. He thought they would lead him to a means of saving her and that he would, independently, do what he could to assist. But his father's stubbornness was an obstacle he knew they wouldn't overcome. "I overheard what that lady was telling you, about what the queen did. I just wanna help."

"The queen?" Belle's blithe expression turned sour at the mention of Regina. Her impressions of the Evil Queen went beyond her reputation. Regina had caused her a specific torment simply for loving the Dark One. "She hurt your child?"

"Took her," Neal interjected. "And you're gonna bring Hook back so he can tell us where she is." He noticed how Rumple's jaw tightened, how his brows knotted together. After all these years, he was still the same man; still unwilling to make sacrifices.

"You know this man?" said Rumplestiltskin, deflecting the attention back to Hook.

"He's not my favorite person," Neal admitted. The Captain struck him to be just as self-serving as his cowardly father. He considered Hook just as responsible for his mother's death as Rumple; the pirate had driven his family apart. "But right now he's all we got."

Snow was put at ease by Neal's insistence. Clearly Emma had meant more to him than he lead on. She deduced that this was the boy Emma had cried over, the one who she would sneak off to see when she thought they wouldn't notice. The young man's persistence seemed to be paying off.

"I can't," Rumple sighed. "That man—"

"You like making deals. The way I see it, you owe me one." With that the Dark One couldn't argue. Rumple laced his fingers through Belle's, gesturing to the back of the shed. She would help him create a potion to awaken Captain Hook.

.

* * *

.**  
**

Belle emerged from the back room, cleaning her hands off as she joined her guests. They were seated around the unconscious Captain, keeping vigil for a man none of them held in high regard. She had heard stories of the man, and was personally told of his misdeeds by her husband. Belle was more affected by Baelfire's return, knowing that reviving the pirate was just the first step in repairing the relationship with Rumple.

"It's almost ready," she announced, her hand ghosting the back of Neal's chair. "Your father," she whispered to him. "He wants to speak with you."

Her tenderness persuaded Neal to actually give the sorcerer any of his time. _3 minutes_, he told himself, creating a limitation on his patience. He got up and disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Belle alone with the former royals.

Belle offered them drinks—which they politely declined—then occupied the now empty seat.

"So," David started, attempting to make small talk. "I didn't know Rumplestiltskin got married." Belle nodded in confirmation. "Congratulations." David and Snow inclined their heads. She accepted the felicitation. "Are you the reason he looks... like that?"

"I broke his curse, yes." She was watchful of them, evidently annoyed by their zealousness, practically forcing their into her home. Rumple hadn't practiced magic in years, choosing a simple life with her. But it seemed trouble would always find him. Belle was kind enough to be tolerant of the couple, always agreeable and gracious.

"True love," Snow said knowingly. "He's a lucky man."

"He's changed a lot," David added. "Giving up his magic, that's a big step."

"It wasn't easy," Belle laughed. "And he didn't lose all his magic. He chooses not to practice it like he used to."

They fell into an uneasy quietness, the pair tired of staring at the pirate, and Belle uninterested in having light conversation. But like she could with most people, Belle saw the truth within. She observed their somberness; their rudeness was a mask to keep the sadness at bay. Belle felt compassion for Snow and Charming, sympathizing with them.

She got up abruptly and with purpose, opening a cabinet door amidst the cluttered space. She took something out, handling it carefully before coming back.

"If you're going up against the queen, this might come in handy." She held out the item to David. He unwrapped it slowly, revealing a leather cuff-like bracelet.

"What is it?"

"It can block her magic. It just needs to touch her skin."

"Thank you," they said in unison, interrupted by the arrival of Rumplestiltskin and his son.

Their discussion was productive, Belle judged. There was no shouting, no hurried exits or bad looks. The wizard was more relaxed than before, and more resigned to the idea of bringing his nemesis back from the (mostly) dead. He wore an apron and gloves, the attire fitting him oddly. It was obvious he hadn't worn them in years. Belle had been telling the truth.

Neal watched Hook, aware of the man's youthful appearance. He looked exactly like he remembered. _Who'd he sell his soul to for that to happen._

Pressed unsettlingly between his fingers was a large circular lump, glossy from a thin coating of chocolate. Snow and Charming looked at the thing dubiously, skeptical of the magician's abilities. "Is he supposed to eat that?"

Rumple nodded sharply, huffing in frustration. Belle smiled at the pair before answering them. "The chocolate makes it go down easier. But you have to wait a few minutes before potency." Snow accepted the pill, wordlessly agreeing to feed it to the pirate.

As predicted, the magic capsule had delayed results. Then, a deep breath emanated from the Captain, strained and dry. The group was startled by the sudden outburst, Rumple the only one unaffected. He rolled his eyes as Hook adjusted to his surroundings, his pupils adjusting to the light.

He looked upward, focusing on the ceiling as he came back to life. It was not of the cellar he had been imprisoned in. No, this was a new place, though similarly gloomy and restricted. Hook recalled the queen's last words to him before The Machine did it's work, and the princess whom she despised. _Emma_, he thought. _Has she harmed you?_

Hook moved to sit up, glancing to his right. His eyes caught the monster he pledged to destroy, looking fed up, bored even. In that moment, nothing else mattered except his revenge.

"_Crocodile_," Hook grumbled, bearing his teeth. "I told you I would find a way." He lifted his left arm, rapidly swinging it at Rumplestiltskin's chest. The Captain halted his motion when he noted his hook was missing, hitting the demon with his stub instead.

Rumple was forced back, nostrils flaring at the pirate's efforts. Belle caught him, putting herself between Hook and her husband. If he concentrated enough, the Dark One could summon a fire ball and hurl it at his foe. _Not in front of Bae_, he disciplined himself.

"Save it," David demanded, pushing Hook back down on the table. "You and I need to have a little chat." He handled him roughly, picturing his daughter being harassed the pirate.

"And who the bloody hell are you?" he spat, gaze flicking between Charming and his sworn enemy. David's fists clutched tighter at Hook's shirt.

"We need to know what you did with Emma," Snow related. "We're her _very impatient _parents."

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* * *

.**  
**

The Evil Queen, calm and collected, made her way up to the tower that held Emma. Despite recently being informed of her men's inability to locate Snow White, Regina was composed. Her disposition was improved by fantasies of ways to dispatch the captured princess. The murder had already been decided upon, the only component left to determine being the method. Regina was more inclined toward using the iocane powder, but there was time for determining the details.

A quick death would be too merciful, far more than what Emma deserved. She would make use of the princess' popularity, extracting every favorable quality her image possessed. They would go ahead with the wedding, she had resolved. Then, in time, Emma would be taken care of.

The door creaked open. Emma sat up, watching the queen gradually settling into the chamber. It had been awhile since Regina actually entered the space. It was furnished with a twin bed and a vanity, both luxuries that Emma should be grateful for. Perched near the narrow window of the tower, Emma was engulfed by the fleeting daylight.

The dust kicked up as Regina slammed the door shut. "Making yourself at home I see." She sauntered across the room, wiping the dirt off her fingertips. "Cozy, isn't it?"

"What do you want?" Emma said with no inflection in her tone.

"That's a very long list, dear," Regina chuckled. "One I'm getting that much closer to fulfilling."

Emma turned back around, staring at the shadowy trees and dim illumination of the square below. She found that ignoring the queen was the most effective way of dealing with her circumstances. That's all she could focus on: not living, just surviving.

The Evil Queen was amused by Emma's show, the landscape too dark to gaze at and the window too small to get much of a view. She summoned a box into her hands, the puff of purple smoke dissipating past Emma's legs. The princess quirked a brow, mildly intrigued.

Regina slammed the item against the desk, getting Emma's full attention. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

"Always," Emma sassed with a fake smile.

The queen opened the box, cackling wickedly as its contents were uncovered. A metal hook with a brace affixed to its base. Emma's dismay was not concealed, her face contorting grievously. "What have you done to him?" she roared, gingerly touching the curve of it.

"Turns out your beloved Captain never made it back to his ship," Regina pouted, reveling in Emma's depression. The princess hid behind her anger, but the queen knew: inside her heart was breaking. "And he never will."

"You killed him," Emma hissed, getting up. Almost lunging at the old hag, she stopped herself when bright sparks materialized from Regina's palm.

"He died well," Regina remarked. "No begging or blubbering. It seems he would have been better off abandoning you." The queen began to circle Emma like a vulture. "Just like your parents did."

"You're a terrible liar," Emma gritted out, her eyes welling up with unshed tears.

"Then here's something I promise to be true: tonight you'll be marrying Sidney Glass. It will be a small ceremony, only a few dukes and duchesses will attend. Then a larger ceremony will be planned." The Evil Queen approached Emma, face to face with the livid princess. "And you will be the model of cooperation."

Emma grabbed the hook from the table and aimed it at Regina's neck. The witch laughed as she disappeared in another in a colorful cloud, the weapon falling to the floor. Emma heaved heatedly, eyes glued to the hook. In that moment, she began to comprehend what would compel someone to hold a decades-old grudge. She understood Hook more clearly now; they had understood each other.

_This isn't over._

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* * *

.**  
**

The inhabitants of the modest cabin had divided into two groups, Rumplestiltskin and Hook at either ends of the residence. While Neal and his father conversed tensely by the fireplace, the Captain had spoke of his journey with Emma, informing Snow and David of her current location. He omitted certain details, only relaying essential facts.

Emma was a perfect melding of her mother and father: her facial features came mostly from Snow, while her demeanor mimicked that of Charming's. The man was not easily impressed, but then again neither was his daughter.

As they prepared to leave the shack, Hook insisted that he join them. His bones ached and his gait was lethargic at best, but his progress was better than expected. "I've always been a quick healer," Hook explained.

"Can we trust you?" Snow posed.

"You can do as you like, but I've no intention leaving your daughter in that castle." She was still suspicious of his motives, the pirate's legend incompatible with his proposed selflessness.

"We won't have to trust him," said David. "If he tries anything, I'll slash him in the face."

"Quite hostile, aren't we?" Hook cracked.

"Just being clear."

Neal paced towards the three of them, parting with Rumple of neutral terms. The resentment he held towards his father had faded with time, his pain serving only as a reminder to never do as he did; to never choose power over family. Hook regarded him uncomfortably, the lingering guilt of his involvement in Milah's departure humbling him.

"Snow White," Rumple called out, twisting his fingers to beckon her. At his request, Belle gave them some privacy. She walked to Neal, eager to speak with her step-son some more. "I want to show you something," he said when Snow was close enough.

From a hidden display, Rumplestiltskin pointed out a oddly fashioned candle. With wicks are both ends, there was a golden holder with embedded oval rubies at the center. One half was made of white wax, other black. Snow gasped at the sight of it, recalling the object from her childhood.

"Why do you have this?"

"For a rainy day," he replied. He took it from its stand, indicating for Snow to hold out her hands. He hovered the candle over her palms, watching her eyes follow it as it swayed. "Is it safe to assume you know the truth? About Cora and... your mother."

"You knew," she breathed. "Don't tell me you had something to do with it."

"Oh, no," the Dark One assured. "But I was privy to all sorts of information at my peak." He let the candle rest in Snow's grip, her fingers cradling it delicately. "It's my understanding that Regina isn't your only problem. Her mother is still very active."

Snow nodded, realizing why the imp had given her the enchanted item. The candle was meant to spare the life of one at the expense of another, a trick she had contemplated using to cure her ailing mother. Snow had known the spell was unjust, but when it came to Cora, she didn't much care. The fact that Rumplestiltskin was encouraging its use, however, was suspect.

"I wouldn't use this to save my own mother. What makes you think I would use it now?"

"Because you're all grown up," he said, appealing to the grey area he knew was always within her. "And for once, our interests are aligned."

Snow considered his plan, the weight of the candle serving as a point of concentration. There was no coming back from murder. But there was no coming back from death, either, a fate that would surely befall her loved ones if she didn't take action.

"I have nothing to trade for this."

"No worries, dearie." Rumple giggled. "Consider it a gift." Snow walked away, tucking the candle into her boot. "Oh, and the heart will do," he offered up. They both knew the candle only worked if the victim's name was whispered over them. He simply provided the solution to that problem.

Hook, Neal, David and Snow departed the hovel with an unspoken vow to put all bad blood aside in favor of rescuing Emma from the queen's imprisonment. Hook looked back at the wizard, seeing him with his arms draped lovingly over Belle's shoulders. After all his pining for revenge, it appeared that the pirate was the only who suffered from it. Was it really worth it, he thought, to waste one's life with vengefulness?

As they distanced themselves from the cabin, Rumple and his wife went to the door, Belle waving them goodbye. "Have fun storming the castle," he uttered.

"Think it'll work?"

"It would take a miracle."

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	9. Storming The Castle

**A/N: I broke this last chapter up; the final update will be later on in the week. Thanks again for all the reviews.**

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Chapter Nine: Storming The Castle

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At the top of the outer wall of the Evil's Queen's castle, the group of four rested, taking the respite to go over their fledgling plan to break in. Hook looked down to the front gate of the estate, seeing several dozen guards posted, bewildered by their numbers. Even with his crew, the Captain would be pressed to succeed against so many. The presence of Emma's parents and the son of his most hated enemy did little to put him at ease.

Hook could hear his companions buzzing away, brainstorming all sorts of methods to infiltrate the palace. Frustrated, he glanced in their direction, seeing all of them huddled together. None of them, he noticed, had actually taken the time to observe their surroundings.

"There's more than 30 soldiers," he contributed, interrupting their discussions.

"We've had worse odds," David replied, looking to Snow as they shared something resembling an inside joke.

"Good for you." Hook arched his neck to get a better view of the goings on below, his muscles still aching from the queen's torture. "It appears, mates, that a wedding is about to commence."

_We're not your mates_, David thought. But the pirate had a point; they needed to act quickly.

"Then you three go to the main level," Snow said pragmatically. "I'll be your back-up." She shook off her quiver, counting the arrows and calculating how best to make use of them.

The way she scrunched up her face in concentration—eyes focused and serious, mouth tightly pursed—reminded Hook of Emma's habits. He grinned to himself as he massaged his legs. "I can see where your daughter gets her gumption."

David shot him a threatening look. The Captain was testing his patience. Hook caught his stare, looking away immediately, swallowing hard. He felt a hand grab at his bicep, roughly turning the pirate around.

"Easy," Neal said, his grip steady.

They locked eyes, Hook refusing to avert his gaze. He had much respect for the boy—no, no longer a boy, but a man now—but his view of Baelfire had altered since meeting Emma. After knowing the whole story, Hook couldn't help but feel disappointment. The young lad he had once hoped to raise along with Milah evidently had remnants of his father's character, preferring to run away instead of fight for the things he cared about. In that sense, he and Hook differed immensely.

The three men crawled back into the denser forest, making sure to remain hidden. Charming broke the tension between Neal and the Captain, shoving them apart and mumbling something about saving their contest for later. Hook sped up ahead, a minor limp in his strut as he grasped his sword.

David watched Neal, surprised by his display of concern. The more time passed, the more he was sure of who this man really was. His association with Emma, his admission to leaving her on unpleasant terms. Even in the evening shade he could make out Henry's likeness, the shape of Neal's eyes and his thin lips. Emma hadn't said much about the boy who broke her heart, and now he stood right next to him.

"There's something I don't understand," said David, diverting Neal's attention. "Why did you wait so long to come back?"

Neal fidgeted nervously as they walked, fiddling with his clothes. "I think I'm the last person Emma wants to see," he confided with hints of shame, voice raspy and sluggish. "I know she wants nothing to do with me. I just wanna make sure she's ok."

David nodded, accepting the younger man's explanation. "And what about Henry?"

"Who's Henry?"

He laughed at himself, realizing that, of course, Neal wouldn't know the name of his child. "Your son, I mean. Don't you think he deserves to have you in his life?"

Neal stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape as he struggled to process Charming's statements. "I don't have a son…I mean, I can't—what, what are you saying?"

David felt a pang of regret as it dawned on him that Neal had been oblivious to the truth. The information weighed heavily on him, David could tell. "I'm sorry," he said rapidly. "I thought you knew."

Both men looked up, reacting to the sound of clashing metal. They sprinted to the courtyard, scoping Hook engaged in battle with two soldiers, three men already collapsed around him. More guards ran towards him, David and Neal coming to the pirate's aid.

Neal swung his rusted saber—the sharpest weapon in Rumpelstiltskin's collection—to deflect an oncoming attack, while David blocked a soldier from striking at the Captain. Hook recognized David's blade, thinking back to his duel with the warrior woman atop the beanstalk. _She's made a few friends, I see._ Hook and Charming, now back to back, made quick work of the queen's men, but the more they subdued, the more came rushing at them.

From above, Snow gave them as much support as she could, hitting her fair share of guards with expert precision. She speedily replaced arrows in her bow, eyes never straying from the assault below. She saw as Neal stole a fallen soldier's sword, fully joining Hook and her husband as they fought their way to the gate.

Shooting her last arrow at the tallest guard's abdomen, only one unarmed man remained. Apparently a more domestically-inclined servant, Snow watched as David approached him.

"Give us the gate key," she heard him say as she strained to listen in.

"I have no gate key," the servant answered definitively. But David didn't buy it.

"Hook." The Captain neared him, his steel menacingly raised at the man's throat.

Instantly, he whipped out a large silver key, holding it between himself and the pirate. "Oh, you mean this gate key." David snatched it, backing off as Snow noted how the servant relaxed. As he made to leave, Neal hit him hard on the head, knocking him out for good measure.

David looked up to find his wife, smirking at her. She waved her hand, indicating that she could join them shortly. She disappeared from the wall, sneaking into the castle with ease now that no obstacles hindered her. He followed Neal and Hook into the chapel, trusting his wife would find them later.

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* * *

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**

Many levels beneath the castle, Snow traversed a crypt she did not recognize. She knew Regina had changed much of the palace's architecture but was still surprised so much effort had been taken to create such a secret cavern. Even with all her power, the queen was never at peace.

The catacomb, despite its location, looked well-kept. Still dark in its decoration, but it was clear the grotto was used often. And recently.

Snow only had time to skim whatever parts of the castle were left unguarded, but something about this place made her take the time to inspect every detail. Her work was rewarded when she heard a distinct pounding sound. She followed it, discovering a wall filled with square drawers which seemed to flicker at random with red lights. She had seen a structure like this before, the first time she and Charming invaded the grounds many years ago.

_This is where she keeps her hearts._

Cora's heart was here, Snow was certain. The space was filled with chests and crates which all looked identical. Finding it would be no small task, but Snow was determined to end this once and for all.

There was one chest that was slightly taller than the rest, it's corners tipped in gold. It seemed secure, its lock large but aged. Snow struck at it with a knife—the only weapon she now possessed—and broke the lock in half. Within the chest, Snow was relieved to find a tiny cage containing a glowing circular object. A heart.

Taking the candle from her boot, Snow lit the wicks, holding it perpendicular to the exposed organ. The heart's beats matched her own as she inhaled sharply before speaking the witch's name.

"_Cora_," she whispered. "_Cora_."

She immediately blew out the candle before remorse could settle in. In her youth, Snow would have struggled greatly with such a decision. But now—as Rumpelstiltskin had surmised—she was more willing to what was necessary to protect her family.

At the dull, muted noise of a bell ringing, Snow hurriedly left the crypt.

When she finally reached the main floor of the estate, she let herself be led by the cacophony of the wedding guests, finding David and the others crouched down behind a wide pillar. Making sure to stay low, she met them, greeting her husband with a quick peck on the cheek. The two men, either out of respect or indifference, ignored the show of affection.

Inside the chapel, Emma stood calmly in the vestibule. Her separation from the party helped her retain her composure, the bells and piano playing a welcome distraction from her chaotic mind.

This wasn't at all how she imagined her wedding day to be. Emma rarely indulged in fantasies of white dresses and ring bearers and exchanging vows. But when she did, she pictured a more intimate ceremony (the fact that Regina considered this to be a small affair made her laugh; there were more people inside the chapel than Emma could count). She saw herself happy, willing to share a life with a man she considered a true partner.

_We make quite the team._

Emma shook away memories of the pirate, finding any thoughts of him too painful to entertain. A different sort of pain than when she would think of Neal, say. The twinge was constructed from a longing the princess couldn't quite describe. She had never felt this way before; she didn't want to feel this way, not when she had to be strong.

She envisioned Henry there beside her, proclaiming words of support. He'd tell her that good would always find a way, and that all she needed was to have faith. Now more than ever she needed to feel she wasn't alone.

_We're in this together, you and I, _the Captain's words echoed.

The blaring horns rescued Emma from her train of thought, the doors opening to reveal an overly embellished aisle, blood red rose petals littering the marble floor. As she walked, she could swear she heard Hook murmur in her ear, past the sound of the orchestra and chattering aristocracy. She could recall his voice almost perfectly, his manner of speech and the way his pitch would drop when he would near her.

_I'm sorry_, she thought, hoping her words would reach wherever he resided now. She had been hesitant to accept he was dead, in the same way she refused to believe her parents had abandoned her. Emma's vision blurred as tears were welling up.

She contorted her left hand to cup her right, pretending the pirate was holding it instead. She remembered, as a child, having asked her father about the time he saved her mother from the sleeping curse. He had recounted how his chest constricted the moment Snow had taken a bite from the enchanted apple; how, even miles apart, they could feel the other's sorrow.

Emma understood that now. This was closest thing she had felt to true love, she could fully admit.

Sidney's form came closer and closer, her slow pace still moving Emma forward far faster than she liked. He was hardly able to stand on his own, the Evil Queen lurking at his side. Regina watched the princess intently, evidently perturbed by Emma's delay.

Once at the altar, the clergyman opened his book as she and her fiancee kneeled before him. Emma glanced behind her, spotting four soldiers flanking the chapel door.

"Marriage," the clergyman began, his cadence lethargic and muffled. "Marriage is what brings us together… today." Emma could feel her eyelids sag, the man's tone practically lulling her to sleep. "That blessed arrangement," he continued, words reverberating throughout the chapel. "That dream, within a dream."

As he carried on, Regina huffed exasperatedly, occasionally glaring at the priest, imploring him to speed things up. Emma reveled in the queen's annoyance. _If I have to suffer through this, so do you._

Several minutes passed before he turned the page, taking his sweet time. "So treasure your love—"

"Skip to the end," Regina hissed.

"Have you the ring?" the clergyman asked, flustered by her majesty's demand.

Sidney, at the queen's insistence, whipped out the ring and shoved it onto Emma's finger. She clenched her teeth at his forcefulness, fixing the Evil Queen is a intimidating look of her own. Emma didn't look away as Sidney agreed to accept her as his wife.

When it came time for Emma's vows, she found herself unable to consent to them. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the clergyman repeated.

Looking around the church, suddenly filled with a deep sense of clarity. As she turned her head, Emma thought she saw her parents peeking from behind a column. She ignored the illusion, instead remembering the pledge they had made to stop defeat the queen. _I can still do it_, she thought. _I'm not giving up without a fight. _

"No," she declared. "I do not."

She could hear the gasps of the guests, scandalized by her response. The Evil Queen chuckled tensely, teeth bared in a stretched smile. "Think very carefully about this, dear." The queen gripped Emma's arm, tugging her within earshot.

"Oh, I have," she replied defiantly. "Not gonna happen."

"Fine. Have it your way."

Regina made her way to the center of the altar, ready to address the men and women in attendance. "It would appear the bride has cold feet. The ceremony has been canceled until further notice," she announced, feeling the judgement radiating off the front row. "Thank you all for coming."

Quickly, the queen dragged Emma to the sacristy and out into the main hall of the castle. Regina's hold was surprisingly strong, her skin bruising under the queen's grasp. Emma regarded her fearfully, noting an intense and quiet fury she had not witnessed before. The public humiliation had broken her, it seemed, and Regina was ready to unleash her wrath.

Still just outside the now evacuating chapel, Snow, David, Hook and Neal hid among the crowd as they tried to locate Emma. Following David's lead, they ascended up a narrow stairway. He knew where the queen was taking his girl.

_We're coming Emma. Just hold on. _

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* * *

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**

"The choice is yours," Regina snarled before slamming the door to the tower shut, the lock clicking loudly.

Emma slumped into the chair by the vanity. The candles flickered in the breeze, the wind picking up as nightfall descended on the kingdom. Finally alone, Emma was still unable to relieve herself of all the pent up emotions that consumed her. Her only thoughts, now, were of the Evil Queen's ultimatum: either the princess take her own life, or Henry would suffer the consequences.

Although initially skeptical of the queen's threat—Regina would never hurt someone whom she wanted for herself—Emma was distressed by just the prospect of her son being harmed in any way. She had confessed, quite convincingly, to murdering her mother and father, an explanation which Emma just about accepted. Regina's heightened anger made Emma all the more cautious; she couldn't risk it.

On the desk before her was a jeweled box which was beside the pirate's hook. She touched the metal tenderly before opening the case. Within it, as Regina had promised, was a dagger. Gem stones embedded in its hilt, the blade was especially sharp. The lesion alone wouldn't kill her; the queen admitted to coating the tip with a solution made from a rare, untraceable powder. Her death would look like suicide; Regina would not be implicated.

Emma picked up the dagger, viewing every possible angle as she contemplated her fate. The moments before choosing to take one's life were more excruciating than any physical torment could bring. The Evil Queen was not a woman to be trifled with.

But to her surprise, the princess felt very much at peace. The fact that the fighting and scheming would finally end was comforting. She wished desperately that the circumstances had been different; that her family had some way of escaping the queen's oppression. None came to mind.

_It's what a savior does_, she reminded herself one last time, pointing the knife at her chest. _Make sacrifices._

"There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world," said a familiar voice. "It would be a pity to damage yours."

Emma, stunned, whirled around, her hair flipping riotously past her shoulder. _Hook_. The Captain was leaning against the bedpost, his form mostly hidden in the shadows. She bolted from her seat, striding across the chamber to meet him, keeping some distance between them.

"It's you," she breathed, eyes darting to various points on his body. He was injured, she could tell, but did a good job on concealing his soreness. She wanted to reach out and touch him, so awed by the sight of him, here, alive.

The pirate's face lit up, grinning widely as he could only laugh in response to the princess' surprise. "Yes, love."

"What're you doing here?"

"Helping," he smiled.

"But Regina… she killed you." Emma stumbled over her words, beaming.

"We brought him back," said Snow, just as Hook was about to reply. Her lips shook as she and David walked slowly to the center of the room, so overwhelmed to, finally, be reunited with her daughter.

"We did everything we could to find you," David added, arms welcoming Emma as she ran towards them, engulfing her a warm embrace.

As they cradled her, David looked up to meet Hook's gaze. The Captain appeared genuinely touched by the demonstration, but he still glared the pirate down for his original comment about Emma's chest. Hook got the message, coughing hotly as he glanced away.

David was taken aback, however, but his daughter's reaction to seeing Hook again. While he had been assured that nothing unsavory happened between them before they were separated, he hadn't thought such a profound connection would be made. She saw something in the pirate that no one else did. _If she trusts him_, he thought, _then so do I._

"We're going to stop her," Snow asserted, rubbing Emma's back as the they untangled themselves. "Just like we promised."

"Henry," Emma blurted, becoming agitated. "She threatened to hurt him if I didn't, you know…"

"That's not going to happen," said David, bending down to meet her eyes. Emma smirked at him, grateful for his optimism. "You are coming with me to find Regina," he appealed, pointing to Snow and Hook, "and you two go find Henry."

David backed away from Emma, making his way to the door. "Wait, who else is left?" Confused by her father's orders, she watched as the Captain grabbed his hook from the desk, fastening it into place with a satisfied expression. He proceeded to follow her parents to the tower's entrance.

Then she heard footsteps from behind her, the floorboards creaking under the slow steps. "Me," Neal answered, making his presence known.

Emma turned sharply, shocked as she took him in. Hands in his pockets and back slouched, Neal appeared more remorseful than excited. He certainly looked the same as he did all those years ago, save for a few extra pounds and greying hairs. Emma's first instinct was to yell and scold the man who had deserted her, but all she could do was stand in silence as he approached.

"Everything ok?" asked David, halfway out the door. Emma tersely nodded before heading out. Her mission was clear: save Henry from the Evil Queen.

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	10. To The Pain

**A/N: This is the last chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks for all the feedback. And now we wait for the season premiere!**

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Chapter Ten: To The Pain

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Walking down one of the innumerable passageways of the castle, Emma led the way as Neal stayed close behind. Torch in hand, the princess made mental notes of where her son's room would be located. The main hall was too exposed for discreet travel, the morose path was their best option. Neal, however, was the last person she wanted to share the cramped space with.

_There's so much I want to say_, she thought angrily. _Where do I even begin?_

"So how'd you get involved in all this?" It was a good place to start.

"I heard about what happened to you," Neal said, his breath trailing down Emma's spine. "Tried tracking you down, but found your folks instead. I got to you, though, eventually."

His attempts at humor only agitated Emma further. Talking to him was too distracting, she decided, so she focused on her search for Henry's room, in silence.

"What's he like? My son?" His inflection indicated some thinly veiled bitterness. Emma tripped over a chipped stone, caught off guard by his commentary. She recovered before he could assist her.

"He's a great kid," she said proudly. "No thanks to you."

"Look, Em, I didn't have a choice," he huffed, speaking briskly. "My father, he—"

"Save it." She cut him off, walking faster in the hopes of escaping their conversation. "I know all about your dad." Without having to look at him, Emma knew he required further explanation. She could hear his unsteady wheezing, anticipating his question. "Hook told me," she said, exhaling deeply.

"I see." Neal's reaction was hard to read in the dim lighting, but he couldn't hide his disapproval as he chuckled disdainfully. "And how was I supposed to know you were pregnant?"

"You would have known if you'd bothered sticking around," she barked, stopping mid-stride and spinning around to face him fully. "You don't get to be mad at me. When was I even supposed to tell you? You _left _me without so much as a goodbye," Emma snapped, her voice cracking. "You left all of your stolen crap in my family's house. You used me as some sob story to save your own neck."

"I'm sorry."

"I know," she said simply, calming down. "Let's just get Henry and go." His remorse was to be expected, but Emma was rattled by his sincerity. Her outburst had humbled him, Emma noted.

"I'm sorry, for everything," he pressed, urging her to hear him out.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Yeah, but I have to say it." There was such intensity in his gaze that Emma couldn't ignore him. Earning her full attention, Neal wet his lips before continuing. "It kills me that I left you. I wanted to look for you sooner. I just—I was too afraid."

"Of what?"

"That you would never forgive me, because I never forgave myself. There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I don't regret having left you. I'm sorry, Emma."

After a long pause (and after Emma let his words seep in), she dipped her head in acceptance of his apology. It was the closure she had longed for over a decade now; she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her, the walls she'd built up slowly crumbling.

Shortly after, Emma confirmed they had reached Henry's bedroom. The door, as assumed, was sealed._ Regina said she'd locked him up_, she remembered. _I have to get him out. _Neal saw her struggling with the handle and slid between her and the door.

"I got this," he declared, extracting some thin rods from his jacket. He fiddled with the lock, tongue flicking at the corners of his mouth in concentration. Finally, they heard a click. Jerking at the knob, Neal was able to turn it, the door squeaking open. Even after all that time, Emma was still impressed by his skill.

Emma willed herself to tread slowly so as not to cause a racket. Her son's room would be fortified with some enchantment, she was sure. Why she had been able to enter without much trouble Emma couldn't explain, the notion tickling the back of her mind. But when she saw Henry sitting on his bed, staring out his window, she wouldn't contain herself.

"Henry!" she whispered harshly, tears dripping down her cheeks.

The little boy turned, leaping off the mattress and into her arms. "Mom!" His voice was less subdued, his chubby hand whacking his mouth to cover it. "I knew you'd come."

"We're breaking you out," she mumbled into his hair, her hold on him nearly threatening Henry's air supply. She let go and cradled his face, wiping away her own tears as she smiled widely. "Your grandparents are looking for Regina. We've gotta move fast."

Henry grinned at the news of their return, his hand firmly gripped by his mother. Reaching the back door to his room, he saw a man standing there, body leaning into the hallway as he apparently kept a look out. "Who're you?" he asked brightly.

Neal froze at the sight of his son, the first time seeing his child. He was a cute kid, his round face and light eyes visible even in the darkness. Clearly welcoming to strangers, Henry looked at him expectantly, with no resentment in his eyes. _I just want to do better_, he thought, determined not to repeat the mistakes of his father.

"He's… a friend," Emma supplied. Neal consented to his introduction, making his way into the corridor.

He was eager to stay near to Henry but the narrow passage wouldn't allow for it. When they approached a corner, Neal stopped, signaling for Emma and their son to keep quiet. They remained motionless as a sprinkling of soldiers passed, their pace leisurely. With their backs against the walls—Emma now directly in front of Neal—he could better read her expression.

She never looked at him, her stare distant and vacant like her thoughts were elsewhere. Neal recalled her reunion with her parents, moved by their loving embraces. It was evident she was concerned for them, likely wondering about their progress in finding the Evil Queen. But there was something else, something he hadn't wanted to believe. The way her face had lit up when she had seen the Captain, however, could not be denied.

"You really care about him, don't you?"

Emma's pupils moved downward while the rest of her stayed in place; she knew precisely who Neal was referring to. Gradually, her gaze met his and she was surprised to find no judgment in his look. Neal didn't like Hook, that much she was well aware of, but there was an resignation in his pitch that read as approval.

She nodded curtly. When he was certain the guards were far enough away, Neal took hold of Henry's hand, gently squeezing it. "Go," he said, picking the boy up and placing him on his back. "Be with your family."

"But what about—"

"Me and the kid will be fine. We're almost out anyway." Neal seemed to scold her, knowing Emma well enough to predict her hesitation. "They need you. Go."

Emma mouthed her thanks, bowing her head appreciatively. She kissed Henry's temple before heading down the passageway in the opposite direction, jogging with a renewed sense of purpose. _When faced between fear and love, you choose love._

.

* * *

.**  
**

Charming raced through the halls, which were illuminated by elevated, ornate chandeliers. Finding themselves in a well-trafficked portion of the palace, the group of three found no use in trying to be cautious in their movements. Feet stomping against the marble, Snow and Hook trailed behind David, each keen to the possibility of the Evil Queen's appearance.

David slowed when he reached a complex intersection of several corridors, watching as four soldiers impeded their path. As he drew his sword, his wife and the pirate joined him at either side, readying their own weapons. The guards parted to make way for Cora, who strolled to place herself in front of them, proud and arrogant.

"My, my," she sang, her velvet-gloved hands clasped at her hips. "You're making this quite easy for me, aren't you."

David tensed, his blade raised even higher. Then he heard faint laughter coming from behind; it was from Snow. Her amusement was short-lived, her features taking on a more serious countenance. Even the Captain was troubled by her brashness, eyes following her as she moved closer to the queen's mother.

"Trust me," she stated strongly. "This is going to be anything but easy."

Cora ordered the soldiers to attack, David and Hook dispatching of them effortlessly. The pirate disarmed one man who tussled about, kicking him soundly to ensure his defeat. But Cora only grinned at her men's failure, her fingers curling as she conjured her magic.

"Don't even think about it," Snow White warned, withdrawing something from her vest compartment. It was a hefty item wrapped in ripped parchment. While her comrades were ignorant to its contents, Cora knew what she held in her hand. And it chilled her.

Cora ceased her gestures, visibly shocked by Snow's trick. "How did you—"

"You killed my mother," she interrupted ferociously, unwrapping the pulsating organ and clamping down around it. Cora clutched at her chest, and David knew: Snow had captured her heart. "Prepare to die."

Cora stood rigidly, recovering from the pain. She saw that Snow had no interest in controlling her with it; she was always too pure for her own good. After a moment, Cora scurried off down the hallway, her powers weakening by the second.

"Oh no you don't," Snow sneered, breaking into a run herself. David looked on as his wife chased after the sorceress, dumbfounded by what had just occurred.

His pace quickened, anxious to pursue Cora as well. Before he did, Charming turned to the pirate, whose expression was just as perplexed. He had to repeat the Captain's moniker a few times to break the trance, removing a leather bracelet from his wrist. He emphatically shoved the item towards Hook, finally gaining his attention.

"I can't leave her alone with that woman," David explained, the pirate accepting the band. "This should prevent Regina from using her magic. All it has to do is touch her skin." His words came tumbling out, but Hook comprehended the prince's meaning. "Find her and take her down."

"Yes, your highness," he replied sarcastically, pocketing the bracelet.

"I'm trusting you."

He held the Captain's gaze for a beat, trying to make him out. The pirate's tendency for self-preservation made the prospect of him joining forces with the Evil Queen entirely plausible. But after fighting alongside the man on several occasions that evening, David was beginning to see why Emma had such confidence in him.

"That woman put me—and your daughter—through hell and back," said Hook, his teeth gritted together. "It shall be done."

Satisfied with his resolve, David sped up and left the Man in Black to handle Regina. He ran hastily down the broad hallways, scanning the area for any signs of his wife.

Many floors below, Cora fled, finding sanctuary in one of the (currently vacant) servant's dining rooms. She shut the large wooden door, bracing herself against it when she heard Snow White nearing her location. It had been so long since Cora had felt true terror, her ribcage burning. _Rumplestiltskin, you clever imp. _

Snow slammed her fist against the door, calling out to the witch within. Cora backed into the room, watching at the doorframe shock under Snow's efforts. She gripped the heart with greater pressure, causing Cora to yelp in agony.

Listening to her cries gave Snow an abundance of strength as she kicked at the door relentlessly. Finally, the entryway collapsed, revealing the trembling enchantress. Pacing towards her, Snow took her sweet time, savoring the sight of a helpless Cora.

Then, too quick for her to dodge, the queen's mother threw a cloud of smoke at her, the charged bubble wounding her side.

"Give up, dear," she taunted. "You can _never_ beat me."

Snow winced as she tried to rise, blood staining her clothes. Her wound fizzled with bits of electric matter. To her left she saw Cora's heart, several inches away and no longer in her possession. _No._

No longer at the girl's mercy, Cora's stamina returned to her. Her posture reflected her improved state, back straight and shoulders aligned. She corrected the fit of her gown, removing her gloves and tossing them onto a dining table; she wanted to feel every ounce of magic coursing through her as she advanced on Snow, who was currently crawling towards the vibrant organ.

Cora struck her again, with a bolt of lesser potency, this time in the shin. Snow ceased her attempts, collapsing onto the floor. _I'm sorry, Emma. I tried. _

"Incredible," Cora hummed, figure looming over her disabled enemy. "You've been fighting me for so long, only to fail now. I think that's the worst thing I ever heard. How marvelous."

The queen's mother channeled her power into a single, walloping cloud in her hands, its size increasing as she hovered over her prey. Snow grunted beneath the gusting wind, scrambling feebly as she pressed against her new wound, her digits ghosting along the heart's flesh.

"Good heavens, are you still trying to win?" The sorceress cackled.

As Cora's torso leaned in closer—just close enough for her to reach—Snow thrust the beating heart into her chest. Cora choked, the materializing smoke dissipating.

"You killed my mother," Snow repeated. "Prepare to die."

The last remnants of Cora's hubris deflated as Snow pulled out the enchanted candle, cognizant of the wicked woman's history with it. Cora fainted, succumbing to the curse placed upon her heart, her eyes wide and dazed. Her short breaths stopped after a moment, her body going completely limp. The witch was dead.

David arrived in the dining hall just as Snow was beginning to stand, one knee jammed firmly into the ground. He immediately came to her aid, spotting a fallen Cora in the distance. "What did you do?"

"I finished it," she panted, pulling herself up with her husband's help. "Now let's go find our daughter."

.

* * *

.**  
**

In the western wing of the estate, Emma came upon a dead end. After turning the corner, the hall terminated abruptly. This was a forgotten section of the castle, one untouched by the queen's new design. Chalky curtains lines the walls, and curving patterns were drawn onto the stone. Flowers, Emma observed, just like the ones on her family's crest.

Her instinct dictated that she turn around and continue her search for her parents—and for Hook—but she was inexplicably drawn to the room at the end of the hallway. Its entrance camouflaged behind the thick drapes, Emma entered the quarters with an assertive push. Dust particles erupted into the air, making Emma cough and squint.

As she swatted the powder away, the princess took in her surroundings. It was oddly familiar, although Emma was certain she had never stepped foot in the room before. She made to light some of the melted candles that hung up on the sides of the chamber, the light revealing the contents of the space little by little.

Large toys and dolls occupied one corner, vividly colored stuffed animals that were once soft to the touch. There was a play pen to the left, the wood now splintered and decayed. Stepping slowly further into the room, Emma paused when she reached a crib, a crystal mobile dangling overhead. She exhaled hectically when she realized this was her room, or rather, the room that was meant for her.

_This was my nursery, _she ruminated. _I was supposed to live here. _

"I didn't have the heart to destroy it."

From behind her, Emma heard heels clicking against the aged marble, deliberate in their steps. Regina approached her, taking in the abandoned alcove. Of all the remnants of Snow White's home, this was the one place she could not disrupt. The queen had hoped, fleetingly, that one day she would make use of the space; she had always been drawn to the idea of motherhood.

"I'm surprised you have a heart at all," Emma retorted, pitch severe and strained.

"It's appropriate, really," the Evil Queen continued, ignoring the insult. "That this be the place you meet your end." Circling her, Regina felt a pang of disgust towards the blond haired woman who had been unwilling to sacrifice herself to save her son. Suicide, it seemed, was a step too far for the stubborn princess.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," Emma spat before lunging at the queen. Striking her square in the jaw, Regina stumbled back, hitting her foe in return with equal force.

Bearing her teeth, the Evil Queen levitated a neighboring nightstand and hurled it at Emma, frustration growing as she watched her avoid the thing. The princess' hands were splayed along the floor, tendrils of golden locks jostled out of place as she kept alert to the queen's every move.

Regina rushed towards Emma, a ball of flame forming in her palm. She flung it at her opponent, the fire crackling as it spun hellishly. Without warning, the pyre was blocked by a flying object: a ragged, fuzzy plaything that had been discarded during their fray. The item exploded on impact, the two women shielding their eyes from the blast.

The queen twisted her head sharply, finding the source of the disruption. "_Hook_," she snarled, stunned by his presence. _Always getting in the way. _"How—"

"Startling, aren't I?" The Captain leered. "Some people would say, striking."

"You couldn't have survived that," the queen rejoined, certain the pirate had found his grave in the Pit of Despair.

"Well, you should know that one thing I excel at is surviving." He strolled towards them, glancing at Emma before fixing his gaze back on Regina. They were both disheveled and short-winded. "But please, don't stop on my account."

The Evil Queen smirked, her attention now focused on Hook. With a flick of her wrist, she propelled him against the wall, vines bursting through the rock to ensnare him. He grunted as the weeds tangled around him. He searched for Emma in the faded light, winking at her when he found her.

_He's distracting her_, she recognized. _We do make quite the team._

Emma slammed her foot against the Evil Queen's waist, causing her to crash onto the floor. She cried out in shock, the vines loosening from the pirate's limbs. Her wedding dress ripped at the action, which drew little reaction from the princess. She attacked Regina a third time, slapping the Evil Queen's cheek.

Her lip blooded, Regina rose from the ground with a great fury. She pulled on Emma's hair, tilting the fair-haired woman's neck at a dire angle. At lightning speed, the queen punctured through the princess' bosom and clutched at her heart.

"_No_!" Hook screamed, deep blue eyes swelling as he witnessed the woman he loved doomed to face the same fate as his former partner.

"Foolish girl," growled Regina, relishing in Emma's torment. "Don't you know? Love is weakness." The queen motioned to extract her heart, but was unsuccessful. She drew her arm back, trying to free her hand from Emma's bust. All attempts were futile, and the princess' discomfort was steadily diminishing.

"No," Emma gasped, astonished to find she was immune to the queen's maneuver. She looked to Hook for a second, seeing relief and confusion pouring out of him. "It's strength."

Suddenly, an intense flare of white beacon spread out from Emma's body in all directions, engulfing both she and the Evil Queen. Regina was blown back, her shrieks echoing throughout the space. Groggy from the emitted flash, the Captain rushed to Emma's side.

"What was that?" she asked, Hook's hand roaming over her features in awe. It was a look he often gave her, she realized, ever impressed by her behaviors.

"That was magic, love. And quite a lot of it."

As he heard Regina's groans, the pirate stepped away from the princess momentarily. He bent down to the queen's level and grabbed her forearm, fastening the leather bracelet to her skin. She wrestled free from his grasp and gestured her hand in a way that indicated she intended to use her powers. But nothing happened.

"What did you—what is this?" The Evil Queen haphazardly removed the band from her wrist, her efforts to cast any form of spell failing. The enchantment was already activated.

"The damage is done, I'm afraid." The Captain left her there and returned to where Emma stood, lacing his fingers with hers. "It blocks magic, or so I was told. It seems the crocodile was actually good for something."

"Rumplestiltskin?" Emma inquired in a hushed tone. "When did you..."

"Long story, lass, one best saved for later." She marveled at his lightness, never fathoming that Hook could mention the Dark One absent his utter hatred. Much had happened during their separation.

Glimpsing back at Regina for the last time, Emma walked with the pirate to the nursery's balcony. Hook unsheathed his sword. "Shall I dispatch her for you?"

Emma shook her head. "Whatever happens to us, I want her to live a long life. Alone." He wordlessly gave his agreement to her brand of punishment. "Get me out of here," she remarked torpidly.

"As you wish," the Captain whispered. In that moment, she was amazed to discover that when Hook spoke, it was actually a profession of love. And even more amazing, she mused, was that Emma truly loved him in return.

She leaned into him, the moonlight from above illuminating his bruised and scratched face. Emma skidded the pads of her fingertips along his brow, then his chin, then his collarbone. The pirate almost shuddered at the contact as his sights fell to her mouth. She tentatively pressed her lips to his, finding them rough and dry. He tenderly stroked the nape of her neck, slanting his head to allow for better access while she entwined her fingers in his dark hair.

Their passionate scene was interrupted by the neighing of a steed from outside. Cheeks flushed and lipstick smeared, Emma arched over the balcony's edge, spying a number of white horses in the courtyard, lined all in a row. She counted five in total, her father mounted on the center stallion.

"Hey!" David called out, waving his arms. "There you are."

To his right was her mother, who appeared messy but content. Neal and Henry sat upon a single horse beside Snow's, the young boy giddily wielding the reigns. To David's right were two unaccompanied steeds, each saddled up and ready to go.

"We found the queen's stables," David elaborated. "Figured we find you both, together." He grumbled at the notion that the Captain and his daughter had become so intimate. "I don't think Regina will be needing them."

Peering down, Hook saw a flat, wooden trellis planted long the castle's outer wall. He anchored his leg over the side of the terrace, hand offered to the princess. "After you."

She graciously accepted him, beginning her descent. The fabric of her gown ripped along the thorny thatch but she climbed down easily enough. After encountering the massive beanstalk just a day before, this was no obstacle.

The pirate assisted Emma as she vaulted onto the horse, her father hugging her as soon as they were of equal heights. Hook stared at the display; it was a rare thing to witness such familial devotion. And it was strange: he had been craving revenge for so long. Now, feeling he could put his quest to an end, he didn't know what to do with himself. _That's as it should be_, he thought. _A pirate thrives on the unexpected_.

The Captain mounted his own horse warily, not having used this mode of travel in ages. Emma noticed his tension and patted his thigh in reassurance. "Looks like we have a ship to catch," she teased.

"Quite right, love." Hook raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. "We've much exploring to do," he flirted, his double meaning made very clear.

They all rode off, out of the yard and away from the Evil Queen's palace. "We'll get our home back," Snow muttered to her husband. There were more battles to be fought to secure the kingdom, but today signaled the turning point towards their triumph. With the queen defeated and her family safe, Snow was persistently optimistic.

.

.


End file.
